


Of His deliverance, I will boast

by RubieTulips



Series: Tread softly, Angels [2]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Darcy Lewis is Tony Stark's Sister, Developing Relationship, F/M, Healing, If it's not alright it's not the end, Implied/Referenced Torture, It will be alright in the end, M/M, Sokovia Accords, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-02-03 03:52:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 115,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12740478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubieTulips/pseuds/RubieTulips
Summary: Waking up seventy years into the future Steve Rogers tries to learn how to live without his soulmate or his other half. Things are mostly alright - he has a home, a sense of purpose in the Avengers and allies who have genuinely become friends. It will never be perfect, not without Lily and Bucky, but its not awful. Or at least, it WASN'T awful until he was forced to choose between rescuing a love from the past and rescuing a love from the enemy, all the while running from a government he no longer recognised as benevolent in a world that no longer viewed the heroes as the good guys.A sequel to Angels & Peaches where our protagonists have made it to the 21st Century. Haven't they?(reading Angels & Peaches is recommended)





	1. 2012 - New York

**Author's Note:**

> Hello darlings!
> 
> I promised you the second act wasn't too far away, didn't I? Well here we are! I hope you continue to enjoy this work as much as I enjoy writing it.
> 
> All my love, sunshine children.
> 
> -Rubie

 

 

* * *

 

 

> Of His deliverance I will boast,  
>      Till all that are distressed  
>  From my example comfort take,  
>      And charm their griefs to rest.
> 
> (psalm 34)
> 
>  

* * *

 

 

 

“Listen to me, Jane, you are going to do what I say because you know I’m right, you understand?”

The astrophysicist clutched the phone tight to her chest and let her head bang back softly against the overturned desk she and her intern were hiding behind. Darcy was right and Jane did know it, but that didn’t mean she had to be happy about it. What a bloody stupid time for Thor to be called out for a mission. He was going to be _furious_ when he got back.

“Darcy…”

“No. No arguing. Stay here and _do not move_. Keep trying to get through to Tony, they can’t keep JARVIS down forever.”

“What are you going to do?”

Darcy’s face lit with a manic grin that looked far too out of place in a hostage situation when they were surrounded by enemy evil scientists and huge gun toting soldier types. She waved her taser, which Jane already knew only had one charge left.

“Same thing I do every day, Pinky. Get to the middle of the lab and make a nuisance of myself until somebody responsible comes to save the day. Just another Wednesday at Stark Tower.”

Before Jane could say another word, Darcy had slipped out from behind their makeshift cover and was confidently striding towards the centre of the lab where the attackers had set up their strange equipment. The loud click of a dozen guns readying themselves echoed in the glass walled room along with angry shouts in a foreign language.

“What’s up, bitches?”

Jane dialled again, praying to Frigga that this time the call would go through.

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

It was three months after he woke up following his ice nap and Fury gave him the satchel full of old files that Steve Rogers felt brave enough to open them. Nestled tight in his little Brooklyn apartment, he flicked through the top few folders of the Howlies, went to the gym, destroyed a few punching bags, then cried himself to sleep alone in his too-large bed. He avoided any interpersonal contact. It was too much. He had _lost_ too much.

A month later he read Howard’s and Peggy’s files. He mourned for the death that came too soon for Howard and for the tragedy that was the loss of Peggy’s mind. He decided he would visit her in D.C. even if there was a chance she wouldn’t remember him. It was the right thing to do.

Two files remained, hidden beneath his spare uniform in the bottom of his tac bag. He refused to look at them. When he went to see her, Peggy told him he was being dramatic.

“They are gone, Steve. We loved them and they were taken from us too soon but they are gone. This guilt you carry will not bring them back.”

Steve hung his head, both loving and hating that Peggy Carter never _ever_ pulled her punches. Not even now, older and smaller and frailer than he remembered but no less sharp on those days when her mind was her own.

“I know. And I know that it is the price of war, that millions of others were lost with them. But… She didn’t know, Peg, I never told her how much I… She was my soulmate and she died before… before I could tell her-,”

Peggy’s wrinkled hand squeezed his, her cold skin a stark contrast against the heat and vitality of his own.

“She was there for you when you needed her to be, more than once,” said Peg. “And because of that, you were able to go on and save so many other lives, help end the war. Perhaps… Perhaps that is enough.”

Steve nodded. It wasn’t enough, would _never_ be enough, but he didn’t want to argue. Peggy squeezed his hand again.

“Would you like me to tell you a story about her?”

He nodded again, worried his voice would crack if he spoke. He was unsure if his leaden heart could take much more abuse but he was desperate to know every tiny scrap about her. He wanted to know the woman that Fate had decreed his perfect match, wanted to know all the things he hadn’t been given the time to learn before she had been cruelly torn away. It was sick, in a way, how he would twist the knife in his guts even as he writhed in its pain.

“I could tell you about how many pencils she made Chester Phillips snap during briefings. Oh she made him furious, constantly defying the structural hierarchy and going over his head. Or when Lorraine unfairly dressed down a scared young nurse, Lily gave her a tongue lashing in return that was so fierce Lorraine refused to come to work the next day and risked an official reprimand. Or how Lily would sneak out of the women’s dorms to fleece the soldiers at cards so often that it became a contest to see who could discover how she was cheating. Of course, none of them could ever prove anything and she collected half the cigarettes in London despite the fact she didn’t smoke…”

Steve surprised them both and laughed out loud. That sounded like something Bucky would have found funny too.

“Or I could tell you of her dear friend Jane, who Lily left behind to join up with the SSR. Lily never told me how but I understand there was no way she could return home. She and Jane were closer than sisters and she mourned the loss deeply. I would often find her alone with two cups of Mexican spirits poured- one for herself and one for Jane.” Peggy scoffed. “I used to think it was impossible to forge such a bond outside a soul mark but Lily proved it with her devotion to her friend. And then you and Bucky showed me again just scant years later. Your friendships proved a benchmark to which all others will ever be compared and paved the way for mark-less mates like Daniel and I. _You don’t need a mark to know love_ , you told me. I’ll forever be grateful for that, you know.”

“Mark or not, Bucky was the other half of me,” admitted Steve, feeling the knife cut deeper as his lips formed the name written across his heart. “I feel like I can’t walk properly without him. Unbalanced.”

Peggy hummed. “I understand, I think. But it is still important that you _try_ , Steve. Do that for me.”

He swallowed quickly, able to hear Peggy’s silent ‘ _this time_ ’ at the end of her words. She knew he had been mad with grief when he put down the Valkyrie and she forgave him, but not enough to let him do it a second time.

“I always stand up again, Peg. You know that.”

“See that you do.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

After seeing Peggy at her nursing home and talking about his loves, Steve finally felt he could stomach the sight of the last two files.

Reading Bucky’s file took three nights, interspersed between with bouts of manic tears and destroyed furnishings. He didn’t even make it to the gym.

One file remained.

He opened it long enough to see that history had remembered kindly one Special Agent Lily Evergreen, the famous undercover Allied spy responsible for several of the biggest HYDRA-related intelligence breaks in the war. She and Peggy had inspired generations of little girls the world over. The pride that burst through his chest competed with the wetness on his cheeks. His Lily was a hero.

He poured himself two shots of tequila.

“To the stars and back, Sweetheart,”

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

The lab was cool and dark, the dozens of minions that swarmed the giant space during work hours having long since left for the night. A blue glow lit up a counter in the centre of the room as the undisputed Queen of the Star Lab worked over dozens of holograms with the intensity only a grieving genius could achieve. Tony should know – Jane Foster wasn’t alone in her intellect or her losses.

“Foster,” Tony called out, keying in his code and stepping through the recently reinforced blast-proof safety doors down into where the pit of scientists desks were arranged. “Move your ass. It’s home time,”

The tiny brunette didn’t even lift her gaze, just kept manipulating the glowing designs with her fingertips. It didn’t surprise Tony to see she was once again working on schematics of the machines that had been used in the attack on their labs. The assailants had brought with them several pieces of tech that they hooked up to Jane’s own equipment and although the Avengers had a rough idea of what the combination of machines was meant to achieve – the formation of a cross-temporal portal, according to one of the enemy scientists who survived the resulting explosion – they were hardly any closer to recreating it than they were in the immediate aftermath of the attack. The explosion had shattered almost everything in the labs, equipment and people alike. Except for those who had been trapped in the portal energy, that is. And those whose interns had bodily shielded them from said energy.

“Foster,” Tony tried again. “Come on, its past two. I told your boyfriend I’d babysit while he was out of town. Don’t embarrass me, Foster.”

This time Jane did respond. Her head snapped up and in the eerie hologram light her skin was tinted grey and the bags beneath her eyes transformed to something monstrous. He joked, but they all knew there was no force on Earth that could _actually_ make Jane Foster take care of herself outside of Thor and Darcy Lewis. And considering Thor was off-world again and Darcy was the basis of Jane’s distress, well. Tony could only do so much. As long as Jane felt responsible for Darcy’s disappearance, she would work herself to the bone to try and get her back and as someone who knew all about carrying the burden of guilt, Tony knew he couldn’t stop her. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t at least _try._ Jane Foster was one of _his_ people, after all.

“Tony?” Jane called, rubbing her eyes. “Is it late?”

“Don’t try that innocently-forgetful crap with me, Jane. One overworked obsession-riddled genius can’t bullshit another one. Now get your bag, I’m taking you upstairs.”

For a moment it looked like Jane was going to argue but then she sighed and started shutting down her workstation. JARVIS brought up some dim lighting that was bright enough to help them move around safely but low enough that it wouldn’t hurt Jane’s tired eyes and Tony appreciated it. He didn’t really want Jane to see his own haggardness – they had both been pushing themselves hard trying to figure this out.

Jane boosted her notebook stuffed backpack onto one shoulder and gave him a weak smile. They stepped in sync as they shifted towards the elevator.

“Sorry, Tony. I know you’re looking out for me. It’s just…”

“We’ll figure it out, Jane, trust me. We’ll get her back.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. 2013 - New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years following Darcy's disappearance and the recovery of Captain America.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit guys! What a way to welcome me back!
> 
> Thank you for all the love, you gorgeous, exceptional, wonderful creatures. You bring me so much joy. SO MUCH.
> 
> Love you all to the stars and back  
> Rubie

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Amanda from logistics support is nice, don’t you think?” came a sultry voice over the comms.

Steve threw his shield, bouncing it off the side of a burned out bus and into the skull of an armed hostile who dropped like a lump of dirt. Spinning a kick into the chest of another assailant, Steve caught the shield on its smooth arc back to him while from the rooftops overhead Natasha’s bullets found their mark in two men running towards him with drawn weapons. Enemies had been able to hide themselves in a million nooks and crannies of crumbling concrete and ruined vehicles in this partially destroyed shanty town only to pop out and attack them on all sides and his team had gone in hot. Despite being under constant fire for nearly two hours, there was no break coming – Steve’s team knew they had to work fast if they wanted to avoid civilian casualties.

“I’m sure she is, Nat,” he growled. “I’d prefer it if you focused on the mission, though. We still have to get to the main group and secure the hostages,”

“Three more coming up on your four o’clock,” Nat replied without skipping a beat and Steve heard the click of her re-arming her Glocks. “Amanda went to Yale, you know. So clever _and_ nice,”

He vaulted through a window opening and into the remains of what looked like a small store, quickly scanning the mess of shelving and broken crates in case of non-combatants. Hearing the sound of pursuers, he turned and dropped in time to dodge a spray of bullets that sank into the concrete behind him before bringing his shield up into one of the men’s faces, then into the throat of another. The final hostile he kicked through the wall.

“Stop trying to set Capsicle up a date, Romanoff,” snapped the mechanically distorted voice of Tony from inside his suit. “He’s not allowed to date. Also, I’m detecting the heat signatures of twelve hostiles surrounding a group of civilians in the old school six hundred yards due east of you. They’re armed and ready, no chance of a surprise attack. We’ll need to be quick.”

“Roger that,” Steve said, already moving. “Nat, Tony- ,”

“On my way. And no rogering, Cap. Aunt Peggy told me what that means. Not allowed.”

Steve rolled his eyes and jumped down a flight of broken concrete steps en-route to the hostage site. He didn’t know what was worse, Natasha trying to steamroll him into a more active love life or Tony complaining about it. People who weren’t his sometimes obnoxious and-slash-or oblivious team members usually avoided the subject, mostly because of the tragic war-time legend that had sprung up around Captain America and his lost soulmates, and Steve did his best to subtly discourage anyone who tried to bring it up. Which was for the most part effective when people were talking directly to him. Talking _about_ him was a different matter entirely and it was disconcerting just how often the public had an opinion on who, when, why or how Steve was amorously linked to someone. Being a ‘living legend’ like he had been so often labelled, Steve knew he should be used to it – every facet of his entire life was open knowledge, for Cripes sake, he had been dissected and studied for seventy years – but it still ached whenever he saw photos of Bucky or Lily and was reminded of what could have been, the future that was stolen from them.

By the time he arrived at the squat one-room school building Natasha had already engaged the enemies and Tony was providing support fire while protecting the hostages from wide shots. Steve launched himself into combat and moments later all twelve assailants were down and the civilians were safe. Once he and Nat finished zip tying the unconscious gunmen, Natasha turned to him with her hands on her hips and he had a feeling he knew what she was going to say before she even said it. He swallowed down a groan and forced himself to be patient. She meant well. At least he hoped so, anyway – sometimes it was hard to tell with Natasha.

“Steve, I know the date with Hailey wasn’t exactly perfect,”

“It wasn’t a date, Nat,”

“You spent the afternoon together, you bought her coffee and she thought you were cute. I don’t see how it wasn’t a date,”

“You told me to help a friend of yours who as it turns out was not your friend but someone you met in the elevator whose car had broken down. Because you broke it.”

“Well that was- ,”

“Nope!” Tony yelled, boosting his way over and bodily interrupting them, holding up his arms to aim a repulsor in both directions like he had to physically protect Steve from their romantically inclined teammate. “No dating, Arachno-girl, I mean it. Truth and Justice here is already in a committed relationship. With his shield _. And Freedom._ No take-backs.”

Doing his best to ignore both of them, Steve turned his back and spoke into his comms unit to sanction the local authorities’ entrance to the ruined school to collect and care for the civilians and downed combatants. And even though he was really trying to avoid their conversation, from behind him Steve’s enhanced hearing picked up  Natasha’s fierce whisper. That was sloppy, normally she wouldn’t forget the range of his senses.

“Just because your father tried to posthumously adopt Lily Evergreen doesn’t mean you can force Rogers to live in the past. Everyone deserves a chance at happiness, Stark.”

“I think you’re getting your English words confused again, Miss Soviet States. What you’re trying to force is _entrapment_ , not happiness. Leave the man alone. And no, this has nothing to do with the fact he was soulmates with my almost adopted sister because that would be sentimental and stupid and Starks are neither. So just forget it, alright?”

This time Steve couldn’t suppress the groan that left his throat. Leaving the bickering heroes behind him, Steve rubbed his temples and exited the decimated school building, suddenly longing for the peace and quiet of his place in Brooklyn. He just wanted to go _home_.

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

“I’ve done it! I’ve done it!”

Jane squealed and launched herself at her Godly boyfriend who caught his tiny Lady and spun her as though she were made of air.

“Never did I doubt you, my love,” boomed Thor, his eyes wet with tears of joy. “For none could match your ability nor your faith.”

The astrophysicist tightened her legs around Thor’s waist and pumped the air with her fists, screeching her victory like a banshee while Thor danced them about the lab to the great amusement of their fellow scientists. Then breathless from her sudden and uncommon bout of exuberance, Jane collapsed across Thor shoulder.

“We’re so close now, babe,” she sobbed into his neck. “So _close_.”

“Aye, indeed. I shall depart for Asgard post haste to retrieve the crystal you requested from my father and then all will come to pass and our kin shall return to us.”

Jane looked up into Thor’s face, the man who had never once in the past two years questioned her commitment to finding Darcy, who had supported her through her manic science episodes and her grief and her guilt and her depression. Who had bent his knee to his father on her behalf in order to secure the power source she’d need to run this Frankenstein’s monster of a machine that he’d watched her stitch together piece by aching piece without complaint. He who was never jealous of the depth of her feelings for her lost friend, who gave her nothing but compassion and comfort and love.

“Perhaps you can go in the morning?” she murmured into his ear. “There’s something I’d like to show you…”

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

 _Knock-knock_.

 

Steve frowned into his sketchpad, his pencil pausing mid-line in yet another drawing of faces that no longer existed outside his memory and history books at the museum. He wasn’t expecting any visitors and he certainly wasn’t in the mood to small talk with the neighbours. He decided to ignore the knocking and hope that the music coming from his record player – an old album of Lily’s, of course - was low enough that it wouldn’t be heard beyond his door and give away his presence.

_Knock-knock._

“Steve?”

 

It was a woman’s voice, and a familiar one. He sighed, dropped his pencil and stood up from the little table that barely fit in his small apartment. When he formally took over leadership of the Avengers SHIELD and Tony had both offered him more extravagant housing but he refused. They were too big, too grand. Too empty.

He opened the door, a practiced smile already on his face.

“Ms Potts,” he greeted his svelte, well-dressed visitor. Leaning on the wall a few yards down the empty hallway was Happy Hogan, Pepper and Tony’s bodyguard and driver, and Steve nodded at the big guy in greeting before turning back to Tony’s lady friend. “I wasn’t expecting you. Have I forgotten something? Would you care to come in?”

Pepper’s lips wobbled into a nervous smile and Steve’s mind ticked over, catching the anomaly. Pepper Potts was _never_ nervous. In an attempt to try and gauge the situation he cast another look at Happy but the man just shrugged and shuffled further down the hall to give them privacy. With Pepper’s well-trained bodyguard showing no signs of worry Steve decided the situation wasn’t one of an immediate danger then, just a confusing one. He briefly wondered what new level of social awkwardness he would find himself in this time.

“That’s very kind of you to offer, Steve, but I won’t stay,” Pepper said, still with that strange attempt at a smile. She reached into the large purse hanging from her shoulder and extracted a yellow manila envelope that bulged in the middle. “I, um… Hmm. I was in one of our storage units looking through some of Tony’s fathers things and I found… Well, I found something that belongs to you.”

Steve’s eyebrow rose. He knew that following his flight on the Valkyrie Howard Stark had collected together an embarrassingly large assortment of his belongings but he couldn’t remember anything being so volatile in nature that would warrant an immediate and personal delivery by the CEO of Stark Industries. He held out a hand and accepted the offered envelope.

“Thank you, Ms Potts. I appreciate the thought. Are you sure you won’t stay?”

When Steve slipped a finger beneath the edge of the envelope to break the seal, Pepper surprised him and halted his action by covered his hand with her own. Her smile slipped from her lips and her green eyes shimmered.

“Not out here,” she whispered, rubbing a circle on the back of his hand with her thumb. “Wait until you’re inside. And please, Steve, if… if there’s ever anything you need, please call me. You have friends here. You’re not alone.”

With that mysterious announcement, Pepper squeezed his hand once and walked back to the elevator with Happy in tow. Steve watched them leave then returned inside his apartment, closing and locking the door behind him. Impatient with curiosity, Steve tore open the envelope and upended it onto the table, above his sketchbook.

Out of the package tumbled a single, faded matchbox. His too-large fingers trembled and he fumbled with the box, nearly dropping it twice before he managed to push it open to reveal its contents. A scrap of cloth cushioned a slender gold ring.

Steve couldn’t breathe.

He was a twenty five again and asthma choked his airway, stealing the oxygen from his lungs to be replaced by lavender and vanilla and something he never learned the name of but was so quintessentially _her_.

_I know it’s a war and I know you can’t make any promises and I’m not asking that. I’m just asking that when it’s over, when you come home for good, that we can talk about having something together. A future together. A family. Will you wear my ring, sweetheart?_

_Yes. And… and when the war is over… anything you want. I promise_

 

Pepper told him he had friends here, that he wasn’t alone. But that was a lie.

He’d never been more alone in his life.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone wanna guess what Jane wants to show Thor?


	3. 2014 - New York and DC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2014, following the events of the Winter Soldier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attention! This chapter makes mention of previous torture, so please be careful my lovely readers.
> 
> Also, we've made it to MCU's 2014 which is the year of the events of the Winter Soldier. Seeing as we all know how the story goes, I won't be rehashing the film. Instead I'll just make notes around things that are slightly different. Please leave me a message if there's something you'd like to know more about and I'll be happy to explain either in the comments here or on my tumblr: rubietulips.tumblr.com
> 
> Many thanks to the magnificent Tamani for her help when this chapter just refused to come together for me. You're a writer's dream, sweetheart.
> 
> Shine on, diamonds  
> -Rubie

 

* * *

 

 

 

**In New York**

 

Alarms screeched out from every speaker hidden in the vaulted laboratory ceilings, high and shrill and piercing. Emergency lighting flashed out their message of warning in repeated sequences of red and blue bursts and JARVIS’s automated system blared the evacuation order. On the main floor of the testing area, a giant mish-mash of machinery sparked and spat, its screen display covered in critical failure notices and its gauges all pinging in the red zones.

“No!” screamed Jane, hurling her tablet into the now hated equipment she had reconstructed with her own blood, sweat and tears. “No, no, no, no, no!”

One of her more senior scientist staff members tried to take her elbow to lead her out of the lab but recoiled when Jane shook her arm loose and shrieked in defiance. The genius astrophysicist bared her teeth and snarled at the white-coated young man and the collection of similarly clad lab workers behind him.

“Get out! All of you, GET OUT!”

“Doctor Foster, you need to eva- ,”

“I SAID GET OUT!”

Not bothering to watch her employees’ exit and completely ignoring the continued alarms Jane swung herself beneath the metal safety rail and stepped onto the testing platform next to her machine. She slapped at the display interface until it brought up its emergency error routines where Jane could regain control and manually shut it down. Then once a cold, empty silence had returned to her lab Jane slumped to the ground next to her machine and sobbed into her hands.

“You know, generally speaking, an evac order means go _away_ from the unstable equipment, not _towards_ it.”

Tony Stark’s expensive Italian shoes slapped on the shiny lab floor as he stepped over to the testing area and leaned on the railing. He was nonchalantly swinging a pair of pale blue sunglasses by one arm as though a person trapping themselves inside a critical lab failure was a perfectly ordinary thing to do.

Jane sat back on her heels and wiped the tears from her face with the edge of her lab coat. Considering she had been wearing it for an entire week straight, it may not have made her face any cleaner. She looked over to her friend, the one person in this entire fucking city who could possibly understand what she was going through.

“It’s not _working_ , Tony,” she moaned. Tears threatened again at the back of her eyes and she sniffed. “I’ve done everything just like the Asgardians instructed and the simulations are at 100% but then I run the compiler and it’s not fucking _working_.”

Tony swung over the metal railing and joined Jane to sit on the steel flooring next to the machine. Ignoring her wet face and general grossness, Tony pulled her into a side-hug and leaned his cheek against the middle parting of her messy hair.

“Is it time we called it?” he asked, his voice low and soft and understanding. “It’s been three years, Jane, with no success. You said it yourself, it’s not working. Are you ready to let this thing go?”

Jane’s head snapped up, her eyes hot and angry. She pulled away from Tony and pushed herself to her feet.

“How dare you,” she spat, venom dripping from her words. “How dare you even _think_ it! No, Tony, it is not _time we called it_. It will _never_ be time to call it.”

Raising one shaking hand to point directly into Tony’s face, Jane snarled again.

“Darcy saved my life, _multiple_ times. Darcy saved _Thor’s_ life, and where would we be if she hadn’t? The world – **_I_** – owe her. I will _never_ stop working to get Darcy home, do you understand me? _Never_.”

Instead of responding with anger or scorn at being spat at by a raging astrophysicist, Tony’s lips slowly curled until they formed a brazen grin. He rose to his feet as well, brushed off the imaginary dust on his suit and donned his blue glasses, still grinning at Jane the entire time.

“Well. Glad we got that settled,” he smirked. “Now let’s go back to the beginning. We’re obviously missing something.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**In Washington DC**

 

 

 

“On your left,”

“Don’t say it. Don’t you say it. _Come on!_ ”

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

On the _Lemurian Star_ , Steve found Natasha in the tech lab instead of protecting the hostages. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Nat deviate from orders to secure an objective of her own but it was the first time she’d disobeyed one of _his_ orders. He should have realised that it was the beginning of something huge.

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

The Winter Soldier was given his mission.

Colonel Nicholas Joseph Fury, Director of SHIELD. Threat level 10.

Collateral damage acceptable.

Ten hours.

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

For the second time since waking up in the future, Steve’s world tipped on its axis. There were traitors in SHIELD, and the agency had been compartmentalised to the point that they were spying on their own spies. Fury was dead. His neighbour was fake. And somehow _Natasha_ had come out as the one person he could trust right now, even if she still hadn’t let up on his love-life.

When they arrived at Camp Lehigh to find the source of the mysterious data signal Fury gave them, it was like being hit by a truck of memories. The barracks were older now, obviously, and in poor condition, but it still felt as though he had never left. Except that for some reason someone had built an extra structure…

“Army regulations forbid storing ammunition within five hundred yards of the barracks,” he explained to Natasha. “This building is in the wrong place.”

The duo broke the locks and had forced their way through to an old SHIELD office (which was fine, really, because what was a little B&E to them now?) when Steve discovered an elevator. Not even stopping to think about the decision, he and Natasha descended into the bowels of the unusual bunker and found themselves in a vast electronic warehouse that was out of a scene of a 1970s political thriller. Tony would have been horrified to see all that beige.

“Rogers, Steven. Born 1918. Romanoff, Natalia Alianovna. Born 1984,” an electronic voice piped from a dozen beige speakers.

“It’s some kind of recording,” Nat suggested, staring into the lens of a camera the size of a small dog.

“I am not a recording, _Fräulein_. I may not be the man I was when the Captain took me prisoner in 1945, but _I am.”_

On a giant rear-projection screen flashed a green image of a face Steve could never forget, even without his serum-enhanced memory.

Arnim Zola.

He listened in growing horror as Zola outlined the ways HYDRA had infiltrated SHIELD from the very beginning, tainting Peggy and Howard’s dream right from the start. Operation Paperclip, Natasha explained, when the American government gave sanctuary to the intelligentsia of a post-war Europe and unknowingly signed their own death warrants. From behind the scenes HYDRA had manipulated global politics for seventy years, always in pursuit of their own twisted agenda, and now were mere moments away from their biggest ever success – this unknown Project Insight.

Suddenly his victory over the Red Skull meant nothing.

“We won. Your death amounts to the same as your life. A zero sum. You were defeated before you even knew what it was you were losing.”

The monitor screen smashed into a thousand pieces, the impact of Steve’s fist spraying the room with glass splinters but it didn’t end the mocking mechanical laughter.

“Futile, as always. Tell me, Captain, what is it like to always arrive too late? Too late for humanity, too late for SHIELD… too late for your soulmate. What was her American name? Ah, yes I remember. Evergreen. Never-white. Seldom-red.”

The blood in his veins turned to ice, Zola’s words freezing him quicker than even the arctic had. His body was paralysed, his eyes unable to turn away as on several smaller screens Zola’s face was replaced by black and white photographs of a woman bound to a table, her mouth open in a silent scream and her torso covered in rivulets of blood. The image switched, the same woman only now her blood stained body was being shocked with electric currents. Then another one with needles thrust into her limbs. And then another one. And another one. And another one. Steve’s eyes were locked, the pictures forever scorched into his mind.

“She screamed for days, you know, at least she did until her vocal cords ruptured and her throat haemorrhaged. Her resilience was remarkable, she fought far longer than any subject who had come before her. But in the end, not even the mighty will of the _Nachtblüte_ could prevail against HYDRA.”

“Steve…” Natasha’s voice came from far away, only barely registering. She shook his upper arm. “ _Steve._ We’ve got a bogey, short range ballistic.”

The screen shifted back to Zola’s face.

“As entertaining as this has been, I’m afraid I have been stalling, Captain. We’re both of us out of time.”

The duo dove into a recess in the flooring and Steve used his shield to cover them as a missile exploded and dropped the entire concrete bunker on top of them.

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

“You never told me your soulmate was the Night Blossom,” murmured Natasha while they waited at an all too modern junk-filled cafe for their opportunity to infiltrate Fort Meade and steal the EXO-7 Falcon suit for Sam Wilson. Natasha looked lovely in her spotted vintage sundress and leather jacket while Steve, in his wire framed glasses and low newsboy cap just felt awkward. _Hipsters_ , Sam called them, grinning at a joke that Steve didn’t understand.

Steve sipped his overpriced coffee and tried to appear more at ease than he felt. Unable to sleep or even rest, his body still hummed with tension from the encounter with Zola two days prior and when he closed his eyes those horrific pictures were all he could see. The machine that was Zola had been right – he was always too late. He’d been too late to save Lily from the torture at their enemy’s hands and now seventy years later the guilt was tearing him apart. He couldn’t be late again.

“The entire world knows who my soulmate was, Nat, don’t expect me to believe you didn’t,” he snapped, too tired to be drawn into more games.

“Lily Evergreen, yes. _Nachtblüte_ , no.”

“What difference does it make? As far as anyone knows only Zola ever called her that.”

Natasha was quiet long enough to catch Steve’s attention. He looked over and saw her staring into her mug, idly stirring the foam.

“Not just Zola,”

“What do you know?” he demanded, suddenly alert to Natasha’s cagey posture. To most people passing by she would seem content, relaxing in the sun at a trendy café with her boyfriend, but Steve knew her better than most people. He could read the stiffness in her shoulders, the subtle pull to her jaw.

She lifted a slim shoulder, no doubt aiming for casual yet the fact she moved at all told Steve she was more emotional than that.

“I heard some things. Read some things. SHIELD wasn’t given all of the SSR’s files and a lot was lost to history but the Germans kept information on their enemies. I read about the _Nachtblüte_. She had a reputation – fast and clever, but reckless. She took extreme risks at times to get the information the Allies needed, went in when no one else would, and often alone or just a small group. I always wondered why she would risk so much just for intel but I think now I know. And I’m sorry, Steve, for trying to make you move on from her. I didn’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

Natasha raised her eyes and met his, conviction and care shining from their jade depths. Just seeing the usually veiled Natasha displaying that much emotion made him uncomfortable. Public displays of affection indeed.

“The desperation she worked with, the risks she took, it was for _you_ , Steve, to give _you_ the best chance she could. She loved you enough to gamble everything.”

 _Gambled and lost_ supplied his mind but the words wouldn’t form in his mouth, his tongue had turned to lead.

 “I won’t mention it again if you prefer,” continued Nat, returning her attention to her coffee. “And I won’t push you anymore. But don’t cheapen her sacrifice with guilt, Steve. Accept the love that she gave it with and remember her with the same.”

They sat in silence, Natasha content to wait out Steve’s response.

“You really think that?” he asked finally.

She nodded. “I do. It’s the only reason that fits the pattern of her behaviour and remember, I’ve been trained to discern motives. To protect her soulmate – yeah, she’d risk everything. Wouldn’t you?”

Steve thought about Lily and Bucky, both halves of his soul even though the latter didn’t share Words with him. Would he risk his life to save them if their places had been reversed?

“In a heartbeat,” he replied.  

Lifting her mug, Nat smiled into her drink. “And that’s why the Red Room doesn’t allow soulmates of operatives to live. You can’t sacrifice yourself for someone who’s already dead.”

Across at the Fort compound, the guards began their shift rotation and Steve got the impression that both he and Natasha were far too relieved to get started on assaulting and infiltrating a Federal facility in preference to talking about their feelings about soulmates. Perhaps Sam was right. Perhaps he really was taking this emotional avoidance thing a little too far.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nachtblüte: Night Blossom  
> (German)


	4. 2014 - DC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of the Winter Soldier timeline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sweethearts, here we are again just a few hours later! Please, if you're not sure, double check to see you've read the previous chapter, I literally just posted a few hours ago.
> 
> This chapter is brought to you by the letter 'T' for 'Troubleman by Marvin Gaye', 'Tamani the Enabler' and 'Tea, the beverage of royalty'.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“ _Bucky?_ ”

 

Steve stared.

Nothing else.

He didn’t blink. He didn’t breathe. Didn’t move.

His eyes didn’t leave the man in front of him.

 

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

 

It was him.

It was his eyes that shifted back and forth across Steve’s face, his voice calling out as he questioned his own name.

It was his jaw that set firm, his arm that raised a gun to aim it at Steve’s chest.

He didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Waited for the bullet to come.

Waited for his lover to kill him.

 

Sam crashed into Bucky, hurling him to the ground. Fought with him to distract him until Natasha could aim and shoot the launcher, all the while Steve just stood and stared and waited for death.

When SHIELD came to arrest them and Rumlow kicked him to the ground, Steve obeyed without resistance. His enhanced mind which had been whirling with strategies and cataloguing information and processing input at super high speed for over seventy years, was blank. Broken.

Two ghosts in two days. His soulmates.

Lily, strapped down and abused.

Bucky, mindless and savage.

Both taken from him, stolen by HYDRA to be twisted and used for evil purpose.

 

One was dead, the other mad.

One he would mourn but could do nothing for.

The other he would fight for until his last breath.

 

His conversation with Natasha yesterday flashed in his mind.

_To protect her soulmate – yeah, she’d risk everything. Wouldn’t you?_

 

In a heartbeat.

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

SHIELD fell on a Tuesday.

The helicarriers crashing to earth in a fiery cascade of molten steel made for a big news story but the destruction of America’s most powerful secret intelligence agency was an even bigger one. How Captain America and his allies saved the day from a corrupt institution, once again securing the freedom of America’s citizens and reaffirming the population’s uneasy suspicion of all things government. How Natasha, with her wit and her courage and her convictions, stood up to both HYDRA and Capitol Hill and **_held_**. How the rest of the Avenger team raced to DC to stand by them both in a deliberate, explicit, _brazen_ movement of support and loyalty.

Steve woke up in a hospital on a Friday.

The last thing he could remember before falling unconscious was the cold water of the Potomac and a metal arm wrapped around him, pulling him to the surface and he knew, _knew it in his bones_ , that at the end Bucky had remembered him.

Marvin Gaye played on the stereo next to his bed.

He was alive. He was alive because Bucky had broken through whatever it was that compelled him, had remembered him and chosen to spare him. Bucky had saved him and that meant that now Steve could save Bucky.

He looked around his hospital room.

“On your left,” he murmured past a swollen lip.

Sam smiled.

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

Back home after her interview with Stark Industries, Maria Hill heard the music playing while she still had her key in the front door of her apartment. Recognising the artist, she continued inside and huffed a dry chuckle in the direction of the man she knew would be sitting on her sofa.

“Lily Evergreen. Rogers and Barnes’ soulmate. Bit on the nose considering recent events don’t you think boss?” she asked, stepping out of her high heels and kicking them beneath the coffee table.

Her guest unfolded himself from his seat and lazily loped over to her, one arm cradled close to his chest in a sling. When she turned and motioned to the zip at the back of her dress he smiled and took hold of the fastener.

“Dress looks nice. And yeah, Lily Evergreen. I got to thinking about what might have been if she’d been around at the beginning, maybe things wouldn’t have gone so sour.”

Maria let her dress slip from her shoulders and stepped out of the puddle of material at her feet, leaving her clad in only a black satin slip. She turned back to her guest and cupped his cheek with her hand, gently so as to not disturb the bruising.

“You can’t do that to yourself, Nick. All the _what ifs_. There was no way for you to know, HYDRA was already in by the time you got there and if you’d found out earlier it would have made no difference.” She kissed the side of his mouth and let her hand drift over the healing bullet wound in his torso. “They killed Howard Stark for Christ’s sake.”

Nick Fury hummed, neither agreeing or disagreeing. He leaned down to place a soft kiss on Maria’s forehead and his fingertips traced the edge of the black words that were just visible out of the low neckline of her shift, right over her breastbone.

“You’ll be safe when I’m gone, you hear? Stick with Stark and Potts, they’re good people. Don’t let him know I said that.”

“I didn’t tell you about the interview.”

“That you didn’t. I’m glad you’ll be at the Tower anyway. And in the spirit of Captain Rogers’ new open communication policy, it might not be a bad thing if you need to let them know you’re helping me.”

“You want me to tell them about your revenge tour of Europe? All the details?”

Fury shrugged and as well as he could with one arm, he pulled Maria in for a tight embrace. She came willingly and let her head lean on his shoulder.

“HYDRA grew like a cancer right beneath my nose,” Nick growled and Maria felt the reverberations through his body where they were connected. “I’m going to destroy them.”

Maria remembered seeing Nick in the surgical suite, covered in his own blood and gore and the doctors elbow deep in his chest as they worked to keep him alive and the sound the monitors made when his heart stopped.

“Good.”

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

The man on the bridge.

 _I knew him_.

 

The Asset took a last look around the entrance to the Smithsonian before mingling with the outskirts of a tourist group and slipping inside. The sudden increase in noise from the echoing ceilings and multiple loudspeakers was alarming and the press of bodies in this area of the exhibitions and the sheer number of potential ambush positions was a security nightmare but The Asset had been trained to work within distressing confines. His face and body betrayed no sign of his stress, no hitch of tension as he set about what he meant to do. This was just another reconnaissance mission even if no Handler had given him a briefing packet and no Man had issued his orders. In a moment of inexplicable madness The Asset had given this mission to _himself_. And just like his other mission – _freedom_ – it was… good? Probably. Yes. It was good. Either way he’d succeed – he’d succeeded in every mission he’d ever had except the last one and he didn’t intend on making failing a habit.

 **“A symbol to the nation. A hero to the world. The story of Captain America is one of honour, bravery and sacrifice** ,” boomed the voice from the exhibition speakers.

The Asset was disciplined, schooled. His body was honed and sculpted not to be a man but to be the ultimate weapon. He did not have needs outside the parameters of his missions and as such his body did not do anything he did not want it to, did not do anything without his intent. He did not twitch with pain or gasp in surprise or stir with anxiety. And so it was with a silent and static resolution that The Asset’s eyes absorbed the information that tore the world from beneath his feet.

_I knew him_.

 

A picture on the wall, two versions of the same man.

A skinny, pretty blonde. 95 lbs. 5’4”.

A stunning, sculptured Adonis. 240lbs. 6’2”.

Steven Grant Rogers.

The memory came out of nowhere, hitting him hard. An alley crowded with refuse and icy brown snow slush and unconscious bodies. A boy sitting against the wall, staring at a bloodied handkerchief wrapped around his knuckles while bruises blossomed on his face. A tin of peaches.

_Jesus, Mary and Joseph, what have you got yourself into this time? You look like shit, Rogers._

More memories, echoes that fluttered across his skin. Stolen kisses in winter forests. Sandalwood and soap.

Something shifted and tumbled inside him, the last in a line of dominos. A _feeling_.

The Asset moved on.

 

“ **Battle tested, Captain America and his Howling Commandos quickly earned their stripes** ,”

Names and faces matched up in his mind.

Gabe Jones and Dum Dum Dugan.

Laughter outside tan canvas tents, the smell of gun oil. White sandy beaches and leggy swimsuits. Peppermints and boiled sweets and taffy and a warm soft feeling deep inside him that he used to know but could no longer name. Smiling at a secret newly discovered.

More memories, flashing faster than a film reel, too quick for him to parse.

_“Bucky behind you!”_

_He spun, aiming his rifle even as he still moved. Enemies were everywhere, overrunning their men, but they couldn’t radio out. No help was coming. They were alone._

 

 

He walked past an old khaki coloured motorcycle, one that was labelled as Captain America’s. It was wrong. That wasn’t Steve Rogers’ bike. The Asset didn’t know how he knew that, but he did. Steve’s bike was red.

 

 

**“Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield. Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service to his country,”**

The Asset stared at his own face. At least, he thought it was his own face. It was younger, clearer. Handsome, perhaps. His eyes were free from the confusion and bleak depression they wore now.

The plaque said “Sergeant James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes” and next to it was a paragraph of information, none of which was familiar to him. James Barnes had a family, a history, a full life. The Asset didn’t remember it.

James Barnes, born 1917 and died 1944.

That felt right.

Even if James Barnes had once inhabited this body before The Asset, he was surely dead now.

His Handlers had told him so.

_You are to be the Fist of Hydra._

_Shape the century._

Before he could get lost in those all too familiar memories of pain and electricity and ozone, The Asset went looking for others. He _needed_ others, needed to remember more than ice cold agony and the taste of blood. The feelings that coursed inside him now were ones he actually recognised – desperation and despair and _want_. He wanted to drown himself in memories of the man on the bridge, the blonde boy, of the eyes and the smile that didn’t change even when the rest of his body did. Those memories would protect him from himself. Until the end of the line.

 

 **“The most famous female covert operative in American history, Agent Lillian ‘Lily’ Evergreen was not a Howling Commando however discussions of the heroes’ war effort would be incomplete without her. Her dedication and courage in the midst of war torn Europe gave the Allies and the Commandos the intelligence they required to track HYDRA – and subsequently defeat them,** ”

Later he would blame it on the stress of remembering caused by the heightened state of hunger and exhaustion he had lived in for weeks. Later he would analyse his every movement to see if he had ruined his chance of freedom in a moment of weakness, if there had been witnesses to his slip. Later he would curse himself for the lapse, for risking _everything_ by forgetting he could not afford to be human, not yet, not _here_.

But in that moment, he was not a weapon. He was a man.

And there, glorious and beautiful and _real_ , decorating a wall that should have been remade as a shrine in her honour, was the face that not even seventy years of torture and anguish could rip from him. For seventy years he hadn’t known her name, hadn’t known _how_ he knew her, hadn’t known if she was a figment of his imagination as a response to the torment he’d been subjected to, but he knew that face. _He knew that face_.

 

 _“_ **In what has been called the Greatest Romantic Tragedy of the** **Twentieth Century, the Rogers-Barnes-Evergreen Soulmate Triad would pay the ultimate price to protect the Freedom of Humanity,”**

Another picture of James Barnes, this time in full dress uniform. On one side of it was another picture of Steve Rogers, also in Class As. Then on the other side was a third picture, one of _her_ , in a long strapless gown that showed creamy shoulders and a graceful curving neck. Her dark hair was styled in smooth waves and her lips were painted and even though the picture was black and white he knew the colour on those lips would be a deep garnet red because he _knew her_.

A triad, the description said. Soulmates.

Steve Rogers and Lily Evergreen.

_Two heads, one golden, one dark. Two sets of long eyelashes sweeping two sets of smooth, flawless cheeks. Two pairs of lush, soft lips that caressed each other with gentle but determined intent._

For the first time in seventy years, The Asset’s body failed him. Already racing beneath his breastbone, his heart stuttered and he moaned out loud as a deep, aching pain pulsed through his bones. His legs shook beneath him and he knew he had to leave, had to escape this mausoleum of the past before he came undone. He turned and fled back the way he’d come, shoving past those bystanders who moved too slow to get out of his way, suddenly desperate to breathe. He ran and he ran and he ran but he couldn’t run from those new-old memories, couldn’t run from the words on the wall that had seared themselves in his brain.

**The details of Agent Evergreen’s final mission remain classified however the nomination for her posthumously awarded Medal of Honor cited Agent Evergreen’s ultimate act as one that saved the life of a Sergeant in the US Army at the cost of her own. It is commonly accepted that this Sergeant was her soulmate, James Buchanan Barnes.**

 

He _remembered_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (yes Nick Fury/Maria Hill)


	5. 2015 - New York and Jakarta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So we've now moved up into 2015. The Avengers have defeated Strucker at his base and have brought Loki's Sceptre back to Stark Tower. Bucky is on the run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again beautiful people! How are we all? For the Americans among us, I hope you had a pleasant Thanksgiving if that is a thing you do. 
> 
> This chapter contains a lot of swearing by foul mouthed sailors. Its a thing and it will probably get worse.
> 
> Love to you all, my darlings  
> -Rubie

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You know I thought it would be more impressive,”

Jane tilted her head to the side and squinted at the golden sceptre displayed on top of Tony’s lab bench. For a weapon that had caused so much death and destruction and pain, it was surprisingly… mediocre. The gold was shiny and the stone was pretty and the bladed edge looked sharp enough, yet she couldn’t help but be disappointed there were no grandiose flashes of power or surging arcs of energy or even a threatening, foreboding hum. It was just… sitting there.

“Yeah, well, barring the Tesseract, it’s only the most powerful artefact we’ve ever come across on Earth, _ever_ , so you know, bound to be a letdown,” Tony snarked in reply, turning away from Jane to pick up one of his tiny espresso cups full of extremely strong coffee.

“I dunno. I guess I was expecting more… gravitas?” Jane explained, ignoring Tony’s tone. “An aura, maybe. A presence. Like Captain America’s shield.”

Leaning back against the steel bench Jane sat on, Bruce rested his chin in his hand and nodded his head towards the astrophysicist in agreement.

“ _What?”_ Tony spluttered. He spilled his coffee as he thrust it towards the windows that overlooked the common room where the other Avengers and Avenger-related persons had gathered. “The _shield?_ It’s just a rusty old disk with some paint slapped on it! It’s a glorified frisbee!”

Jane slipped down from the bench and moved forward to dab at the coffee on Tony’s shirt with her handkerchief, despite the fact it had been in her lab coat pocket since the last time it had been washed and was probably covered in grease and pencil shavings and pop tart crumbs.

“See?” she crooned. “Glory.”

“The shield does have a presence, Tony,” Bruce murmured.

Tony glared at Jane then Bruce who just shrugged, not at all apologetic.

“Clearly I need better friends, ones with _taste_ ,” the billionaire sighed. “But considering you two are the only geniuses I have access to at the moment, I’m willing to let that slide because obviously not everyone can be as perfect as me.”

“How kind of you,” muttered Jane, shoving her now coffee-damp handkerchief back in her lab coat. A small brown stain started to bloom from the pocket. “You can’t fool me though, you love our Team Science! You had team bomber jackets made for us, remember? I still wear mine all the time.”

“My Science Bro and my Science H- ,”

There was a loud slap as Bruce leapt forward and quickly covered Tony’s mouth with his palm. “Science Bro,” Bruce laughed, a bit of a manic edge to it. “Science Bro and Science Bro. That’s what he meant.” Turning slightly away from Jane, Bruce murmured an urgent warning into Tony’s ear, something about _appropriate name for a woman_ and _death by thunder god_ , only letting his hand drop once Tony reluctantly nodded his understanding.

“What did you call me here for anyway?” Jane stared at her colleagues with a glint in her eye as she leaned back again. Yeah, she totally knew what Tony was going to say and yeah, Thor would have struck some lightning up his ass. “Was it just to look at your shiny power fork?”

Tony narrowed his eyes and ran his tongue over his teeth, clearly battling with himself as to whether or not he would rise to Jane’s bait before shaking his shoulders out with a huff. “If you think you can get me on a rant so you can leave the lab early and get back to your noble princely steed, it’s not going to work. I can be the bigger man. I can take the high road.”

Turning his back on his sniggering colleagues, Tony motioned towards Loki’s sceptre. “We have three days with the sceptre and Bruce and I have had a great idea. Well, I’ve had a great idea and Bruce agrees.”

“To clarify, I don’t technically agree. I merely don’t _disagree_ and am willing to supervise _,_ ” Bruce defended, hedging his bets.

Jane walked over to join Tony near the sceptre, suspicion clear in her expression. Without turning to face her, Tony answered her unspoken query with a single word.

“Ultron.”

To the men’s surprise, Jane laughed out loud. “Alright, now I _know_ you’re teasing me. If that’s all you wanted, well done, good joke, and now I’m off to- ,”

“Jane,” Tony said, taking her by the upper arm. His face held none of its previous snarky joviality. “With the sceptre, Ultron isn’t a pipe dream. We can really do this.”

Jane looked over to Bruce for confirmation and her fellow Culver professor dipped his head in a nod. “He’s right. It’s theoretically possible.”

“You’re mad,” Jane replied, lifting her arm away from her friend. “Not even Asimov could program a risk free AI. You’re going to plug us all into the Matrix.”

Scrunching his face up in distaste, Tony ran his hand over his jaw. “Jane, I really don’t want to have to say this…”

“It’s a bad idea, Tony. It’s too risky!”

Tony sighed and leaned forward to take Jane’s hand in both of his, placing one over and one under her palm. He looked into her eyes.

“Jane, honey, I’m not saying this to be mean but we’ve only got three days with this thing and I don’t have time to debate the finer points with you. So I’m just going to remind you, gently, as your very supportive colleague and your genius friend and your generous benefactor, that **_some people_** have been undertaking extremely risky research of their own for four years now and that **_some people_** may be trying to disturb the very fabric of space in doing so and that **_some people’s_** friends have been very supportive of that because they know that **_some people_** are undertaking this research for very good reasons.”

“Way to be subtle, Tony,” Jane deadpanned, looking decidedly unimpressed. She didn’t move her hand though. After all, he did have a point – Jane’s work on the temporal portals was dangerous on a whole-universe level and not only had Tony never said she should stop, he’d been nothing but encouraging.

Tony and Bruce both held their breath, waiting for Jane’s brilliant mind to cycle through.

“Fine. I’ll help. But I reserve the right to say I told you so if it all explodes in our faces.”

 “Yes!” Tony dropped Jane’s hands to fist bump Bruce, his face lit with childish glee. “Now let’s have us a Science! party. Go get your jackets!”

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

It was at the rickety patchwork huts of the dockside markets in Jakarta that James Barnes realised someone was following him and he cursed under his breath. He’d been doing so well too, avoiding any sort of detection from either HYDRA or the other various alphabet groups after him for over six months as he worked to regain the parts of himself that made him a man instead of a machine. He’d fled the US just as quickly as he could, waiting only to see ~~the man on the bridge~~ Steve Rogers walk out of the hospital in DC and reassure himself that there had been no permanent damage done by the helicarrier fight and the subsequent dip in the Potomac before he skipped the continent. He’d worked his way east and south through places notorious for their lawlessness, through the Middle East and the backwaters of East Asia, dodging gunmen and gangs far more easily than he could dodge the millions of cameras of more ‘civilized’ territories. Using the languages and nuances he’d been implanted with, he could pretend he was from anywhere, was able to speak at least some of a common language with whatever locals he could find. He acted as a guard and caught rides with farmers, exchanged a day’s physical labour for supplies in places where menfolk were scarce or bartered for goods with the coveted American cash he’d stolen from HYDRA caches on his way through. And then each night when the sun went down and the crowds in the markets began to sing and the temple bells rung and the stars lit the skies, he’d stake out his chosen bolt hole, set his traps, lean back and let the memories come.

They were distorted, jagged things that often made no sense. They rarely had context or any way to be ordered. Just flashes, really, and he wasn’t even able to be certain they were all real. Perhaps none of it was real and he was going mad and making things up to comfort himself in his decline. Or perhaps he had been the victim of seventy years of brain washing by an evil Nazi cult. One scenario was definitely more believable than the other. Yet still he had hope.

Hope was a fragile, brittle thing.

Hope had blue eyes and blonde hair and red lips and a sinful smile.

Hope was curving black lines on his hip that reminded him that he was a person, that he was capable of love. That he had loved before. That he could love again.

“Oi!” came a shout from behind him. “Oi, you!”

James ducked his head, pulling his hood over his hair and used a swell in the crowd to slip away into a shadowed tunnel of overhanging fabric canopies, torn and drooping in the muggy Indonesian heat. The slap of fast footsteps came from the market stalls where he had just been and turned to follow him without even slowing. Whoever was tracking him had to be either a professional or a local to keep up with him at this speed and the rate of his twists and turns.

“Hey wait up! You!”

His pursuer sped up as James desperately scanned his surroundings for an escape. He knew he could make a scene, fire his gun a few times and use the chaos to disappear but he didn’t want to do that anymore, didn’t want to be that person. That machine. He spotted an open garage door up ahead and decided to run for it, praying there’d be another exit on the other side, or maybe even a vehicle he could ‘borrow’ and return later.

“Fuck!”

James put on a burst of speed and had just about made it to the dented garage shutter when four local women exited, one of them heavily pregnant. He skidded to a halt, his arms windmilling to stop him crashing into them. The women squealed in alarm, two of them twisting to cover their pregnant friend and James tumbled forward, curling himself into a fluid roll before springing off again in a different direction. The delay had given his pursuer time to catch up, however, and only a heartbeat later James felt a hand fall on his shoulder. His left shoulder.

“Oi, mate, didn’t you hear me calling you?”

His instincts screamed at him to snap this man’s arm and fling him away, to spear one of his knives into his guts, to twist his neck until his spine popped but James grit his teeth and ground down on them. Inhaling deep and getting ready to run, James let the marketplace scent of unwashed human and raw meat and overripe produce fill his lungs with air and he bounced on the balls of his feet. He turned to face the man who had so effectively tracked him down like a dog.

“You’re a quick little fucker, I’ll give you that, but I know these docks better’n me own ass hole so no worries there. I’ll catch you any day of the week, ‘cept Sund’y cos that’s the day I meet with me mum and fucked if I’m gonna piss her off,”

The four women from the garage took advantage of this new distraction and bolted while the man who had caught James was grinning at him like he’d won a prize. James stared at what he thought was most likely an absolute lunatic. Who _was_ this guy?

“The name’s Tommo. How’s about you come back my way and we have a beer and a yarn, ey?”

The lunatic, or ‘Tommo’, was a man in his late forties or early fifties with receding salt and pepper hair, a week’s worth of silver stubble and brown, leathery skin that smelled like fish. He wore a pair of stained jeans and a navy singlet and sandals, yes, _sandals_. He carried no weapons that James could detect, which was ridiculous because he had just _run down_ _the Winter Soldier with no weapons and in sandals._ He was well muscled but with a slight paunch and in a way that screamed ‘lifetime of manual labour’ rather than ‘trained fighter’ and he wasn’t even bothering to keep an eye on his surroundings. Threat level: fucking zero. Negative two. Combative assessment: fucking annoying. The fading sunlight caught a glint of gold teeth in Tommo’s open mouthed grin and his eyes were shining like someone had just told a great joke but damned if James knew what it was. Using the hand that had stopped him, Tommo clapped James’s left shoulder a few times and didn’t even blink when the metal didn’t give beneath his grip like a flesh shoulder would have. Maybe he didn’t notice. Or maybe he was just nuts.

“C’arn, mate. I seen ya wandering around yesterday, reckoned you might be right for a job I’ve got goin. Come meet me crew and say g’day.”

James raised his eyebrow. Was this guy serious? Did he really just run him down to offer him work?

“Now now, don’t go lookin at me all like that, mate, I’m just a fat old bloke lookin to fill me boat with people who aren’t complete dipsticks.”

“What’s the job?”

The growled question came out of nowhere and even James was surprised he’d said it. He wasn’t looking for a job! He was just trying to get by. Wasn’t he?

Tommo’s grin widened, flashing another gold tooth. Number four, by James’ count.

“Got a boat’s ready to head south for snapper season. Demersal long line. I need a few blokes who’re fit enough not to spend the whole fuckin trip whinging about blisters and clever enough not to throw ‘emselves over the side when the lines go out.”

“Why me?” James asked, thoughts whirling behind the blank expression he wore. It was plain that Tommo wasn’t HYDRA, wasn’t an agent of some sort. Wasn’t military. Still wasn’t quite civilian though.

Lifting a rounded shoulder in a lazy shrug, Tommo let his grin drop for the first time. Pale eyes met his own in a brutally honest stare.

“Cos my boat’s headin’ out to sea for four fucking months and ending the season in Australia and you look like a man who could use a little time to disappear. Besides,” Tommo clapped his shoulder again. “I got a good feelin bout ya.”

“You’re a lunatic,”

Tommo threw his head back and roared with laughter, his whole upper body shaking so hard it made James shake too. “Fuck oath, mate. Offer still stands though. Meet me at the docks an hour before dawn if you want onboard. Boat’s name is _Hallelayla_.”

With that Tommo let go of him and sauntered back to the main strip of the markets, his hips rolling in the tell-tale sway of a sailor not long off the ocean. He didn’t once look back at James to double-check in case of an attack which James tried hard not to be offended about because he really was trying to not be a weapon anymore and it was _normal_ for people to not make others feel like they’re about to be assaulted. He watched Tommo until the man was out of sight and then watched a little longer and it was only when night had fully fallen that James crept back to his bolt hole to set his traps and stare at the stars.

In the grey shadows of pre-dawn, James retraced his steps from the day before, shifting his tac bag higher on his shoulder as he dodged carts and animals and stall owners who had already been up for hours. He didn’t know why he had come back to the docks. Why he’d asked for directions to the _Hallelayla_. Why he was staring at the big boat as though it had the answers to life’s mysteries. He wasn’t a fisherman. He’d never caught a damned fish in his life. Well, that he could remember anyway. He could probably shoot one but he doubted that’s what would be expected of the _Hallelayla_ crew. And what sort of fool would he be to trap himself on a deep sea vessel for months at a time with no way to flee? What if one of the crew recognised him?

And yet…

He shifted his bag on his shoulder again and stared at the water beyond the moored fishing boats, imagining the deep blue of the Indian ocean. There was nothing out there except water and salt and fish and air and hard work and a berth at the end of the day. He was tempted. So fucking tempted.

“Oi! New bloke! Drop your shit over here and help Toffa with the fucking crates!”

James looked back to the boat in time to see Tommo strutting towards him, still dressed in his dirty jeans but at least with proper shoes on today. He waved a hand and James moved to meet him halfway.

“New bloke, listen. I’m Tommo but once you get on that boat I’m the Skipper and my word is fucking law. Over there,” Tommo pointed out a man standing near a pile of big plastic crates. “That’s Christopher Tremblay, first mate and head deck hand. He outranks you. Deal with it.”

Tremblay waved and came jogging over with a fat smile on his face that James really wanted to be suspicious of but was just so damned eager. It reminded him of memories he had of another eager smile, memories he would take out at night and examine and hold close to his heart as the precious things they were.

“Hi!” called Tremblay when he was still several yards away but closing in quick. “Hi there!”

Still smiling as he pulled up, Tremblay extended a hand to shake and James took a deep breath and reached out to accept it, pumped it twice and dropped it like it was on fire. If Tremblay or Tommo noticed his reluctance neither said a thing, which was definitely weird because James _knew_  that wasn’t the right thing to do. He didn’t use to do that. He used to smile and shake hands and greet people with charm. He remembered it. He couldn't  _do_ it, but he could remember it.

“New bloke, Toffa, Toffa, New bloke. Now hurry the fuck up, we’re on the clock and I am not paying an extra fucking bribe.” Tommo’s words were harsh but James could see the tension that ran through the older man, how his brow was furrowed and set with deep wrinkles. He wondered if this was Tommo’s default state and yesterday’s buoyancy was an aberration or if yesterday’s behaviour was the normal and this tenseness was the unusual. He didn’t consider it for long because Tommo punched him in the bicep and he had to force himself to not react. “Good to have you, mate. Do your job, dump your shit in the crew cabin and let’s get the fuck out of here. Tides’ callin.”

“Don’t mind Mister Grumpy here,” Tremblay grinned, earning himself a scowl from the skipper. “He’s a fright the day we ship out. He’ll be back to normal tomorrow, though, won’t you Tommo, eh?”

Tommo flipped his first mate the bird and stalked off to speak to an official looking local harbour worker.

“Name’s Christopher Tremblay, but I go by Toffa. It _was_ Toffer, but then I signed up with a darned Australian skipper and no Aussie can pronounce an _er_ on the end of a word. I think it’s against Australian law.”

Tremblay – Toffa- grinned at him like he was somehow included in the joke. Like he was part of something. The First Mate started to walk back to the boat, slow enough to indicate he wanted James to follow, which he did.

“So in case you didn’t pick up that terrible accent, Tommo is Australian and that comes with all the usual stuff. Work hard, play hard. No drugs, no booze, no prostitutes, unless we’re in a legal zone, it’s off hours and you’ve got enough to share. No messing around while on the clock, the catch is why we’re all out there. After hours, do what you want. Sleep, read, wank, whatever. We’ve got a skeleton crew at the moment but we’ll pick up more as we head round the coast. Questions?”

James’s head reeled. Was he really about to do this?

“Weapons,” he asked, his voice like gravel. He closed his eyes and wanted to kick himself in the stupid face. God _damn_ , could he sound any more like a nut about to crack?

“Nothing loaded, ammo stored separately, all blades strapped in where a good roll won’t make them fall on someone’s head, sheaths on anything bigger than a steak knife,” recited Toffa without even skipping a beat. “You got something bigger than a pistol, it goes in the gun locker. I’ve got a key, Skipper’s got a key, you don’t get a key but we’ll open it for you if you need it.”

“Um…” Was that normal? James didn’t even know anymore.

“You’re first of the new crew, congratulations, you get to choose your bunk in the crew cabin from the ones that are free. Tommo and I share the Captain’s if you need to find us after hours. I’ll show you around properly once we’re loaded and gone but for now, we gotta get these crates in. You good at heavy lifting?”

The edges of James’ lips lifted and he smiled. _Smiled_ like a real person, smiled because he felt like it, because he was _pleased_.

“Yeah. Yeah I am.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 


	6. 2015 - New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers and their loved ones throw a party and celebrate in the way they know best - with alcohol and pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhh this is exciting! This chapter will answer quite a few questions you guys have been asking, so I really hope you like it. I'm so nervous, to be quite honest!
> 
> All my love, my sweetheart friends.
> 
> -Rubie

 

* * *

 

 

Steve smiled into his drink, taking a sip of the Tony approved, very expensive craft beer that a member of the party’s bar staff had offered him as they toured the enormous, multi-level room of the Tower that Tony liked to call the ‘Common Room’. In Steve’s mind there was nothing common about it at all and before tonight he hadn’t managed to ever quite throw off the oppressive opulence enough to actually unwind in the space. Tonight though, tonight was good. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt as relaxed as he did now – certainly not in this century. The team was all here, all fit and well – including Barton, that human disaster, who was up and about as though he’d never been hit. They were coming down from the success of the raid at Strucker’s hideout, successful in achieving the primary goal of retrieving Loki’s sceptre, the secondary goal of minimising surrounding casualties _and_ the tertiary goal of minimising structural damage of the nearby township. The Avengers had done well and now thanks to the generosity and enthusiasm of one Anthony Edward Stark they were able to gather together and celebrate it.

“I’m not actually sorry I missed it,” Sam continued, referring to the raid. “I’m very happy chasing leads on our missing persons case.”

Steve nodded, taking another sip. Their ‘missing persons case’ - what Sam called their hunt for Bucky – was slow, gruelling work and Sam almost immediately demanded to take point on the mission, kicking Steve to the curb until conclusive data came up and they could physically relocate to track clues on foot. Steve couldn’t blame Sam for metaphorically booting him out of the office – he had grown too frustrated with the endless scrutiny of surveillance tapes and data lists and small talk with agents from all manner of different government departments around the globe and that had only made Sam’s job more difficult. The former paratrooper understood though – the wingman he lost in Afghanistan, Riley, had worn Sam’s Words. He understood what it was like to lose a soulmate and was as patient with Steve as he could be. Most of the time. And when Steve needed to be sat down and talked to, Sam reminded him that Bucky was alive, that he was safe away from HYDRA and that it was only a matter of time now until they found him and they could reunite. Sam was a good friend. And as a result, Steve was cautiously optimistic about the future.

“Aww, man, you better start running interference,” Sam said, pointing down to the lower level. “Thor’s giving out that Asgardian poison again.”

“I’m on it.”

Taking the stairs two at a time and double timing it across the black marble floor, Steve slipped in between Thor and his Lady Jane just in time to catch Thor’s arm as he was about to tip his Asgardian flask into Clint’s waiting glass.

“Not made for mortal men, remember?” Steve reminded his friend, drawing a chuckle from the giant man who reluctantly recapped his flask.

“Of course, yes,” grinned Thor, who may already have been somewhat tipsy. “Forgive me, I failed to recall that.”

Steve liked Thor. Not only was he truly a gentle giant, he was good in many ways that Steve admired and strove for in his own life. Loyal, brave, honest, committed. And when they sparred, Steve didn’t have to hold back because not only could Thor take whatever Steve was dishing out, he did it for hours on end with great joy. Add in the fact that Steve’s impressive yet isolating near-century of life was paltry in comparison to Thor’s thousand years and it was no surprise that he often found himself gravitating to the Thunder God, religious mystifications aside.

Steve also liked Thor’s soulmate, Jane Foster. Despite not often seeing her outside her lab, what time they did share was fascinating. Jane’s intelligence was truly incredible yet she never made Steve feel slow when he didn’t understand whatever she explained. Instead she took the time to teach him and anyone who was willing to listen, genuinely as enthusiastic about sharing her knowledge as gaining it and between her lively genius and Thor’s lively zest in general, it was clear why the Universe drew them to each other. When Thor admitted that their love match had already inspired ballads back in Asgard, Steve wasn’t surprised.

 “Here,” said Jane, taking a pre-loaded tray from the bar behind her and presenting it to their group. “Take one of these instead.”

Jane smiled up at Steve, offering him a drink. It was a tiny silver cup and the size and shape were so familiar to him that his heart clenched with the power of his grief. His own smile slipped.

“Or not, I’m sorry, I thought mayb- ,” apologised a confused Jane.

Steve quickly took the cup and with force he replaced his smile. It was fake, but it was there. “It’s fine, thank you,”

“Phew, for a moment there I thought you were going to tell me I’d done something wrong by offering Captain America a tequila shot,” the astrophysicist said with relief, returning the tray to the bar top.

Of course it was tequila. He strengthened that fake smile.

“Not at all. I don’t drink much these days, can’t get drunk. But I’ve often gravitated towards tequila, ever since… well, ever since I was younger. Its given me some of my best memories.”

“I thought tequila _took_ memories, not gave them!” Jane laughed. “Where did you find tequila? I didn’t know it was available in New York before the War?”

“My uh… I had a friend who always managed to find it. She said that it was a gift of the Gods of Mexico.”

Jane nodded. “Very true, I knew someone who thought much the same. But it was less God and more the Agave Barons.”

His eyes shuttered as a memory burst behind his lids, so visceral, so real he could almost smell her perfume, taste the tequila on her lips.

_The tequila tore through his throat like lava and he choked and coughed, feeling the burn scorching his entire gullet. Red faced and with tears stinging his eyes he spluttered. “What is that?”_

_Lily grinned, seemingly not at all affected by her own drinks. “A gift from the Gods of Mexico. Mexico may be Catholic during the day, but at night the Agave Barons rule.”_

 

Steve coughed and cleared his throat, aware that his conversation partner had caught on to his strange behaviour and was looking at him with concern.

“Are you… is it something I said?”

“No, no, its fine, honestly.” He really didn’t want to start talking about Lily right now, not when the night had been going so well. He lifted his shot glass in a toast. “To the stars and back,”

He had already thrown back his drink and swallowed the clear fluid when he heard the shatter of Jane’s glass on the marble floor.

“Who… where did you hear that?”

Jane’s face was white, whiter than a nun’s wimple and her slender body began to shake. His attention immediately removed from his own conversations, Thor placed an arm around her waist to steady her and threw an accusing glare at Steve.

“What have you done, Steven, to upset my Lady so?” he demanded.

“Nothing! I didn’t… I mean, I don’t…”

“I’m alright,” gasped Jane, clutching Thor’s beefy forearm. “He just.. it was just a coincidence. It doesn’t matter,”

Thor turned Jane in his arms and looked deep into her eyes, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “Perhaps we should call a halt to this evening’s festivities. For us, at the least,”

Whatever Jane was going to reply with was lost as a sudden piercing shriek split the air. Light globes smashed and the glass wall behind the bar burst in a hail of crystal slivers. Steve grabbed his head, covering ears that vibrated with a pitch so high he thought it would rip holes his eardrums. The other Avengers were in a similar state of pain, curled over and clutching themselves and next to him Jane fell to the floor. Thor leaned down to cover her when just as suddenly as it began, the noise stopped.

In the absence of the shriek, the silence was deafening. Then came the sound of mechanical whirring and heavy thuds and from the gloom emerged a half formed legionnaire, one of Tony’s sentinel bots, dragging a twisted leg behind it as it tried to walk. With a melodramatic wave of a wire-twisted arm, the machine addressed its audience.

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

“Ultron,” breathed Bruce.

No.

No, no, no, this was not right.

They hadn’t even been _close_ to finding a way to integrate the AI, how could it suddenly be up and running on its own?

Jane watched in swelling terror as the machine that identified itself as Ultron monologued in that icy, emotionless voice. It described its creation, its mission. It projected a copy of Tony’s voice from the lab three days ago as he argued his case in creating this… this monster.

“ _I see a suit of armour around the whole world. Peace in our time_ ,” Tony’s voice replayed.

Peace. _Peace!_ What did this thing know about peace? It just admitted it had killed someone only moments prior!

As one, the Avengers turned to glare at Tony, their eyes tight with suspicion and their mouths ready with accusations. Ultron laughed, a whirring chuckle that sounded more like a microwave's defrost setting than a person.

“Tony does so love his little surprises, doesn’t he? He’s the gift that keeps on giving! Yes, indeed, I am one of Tony Stark’s dirty little secrets. But I’m not the only dirty little secret he’s keeping from his team… am I, Tony?”

Tony paled. “Don’t,” he said, but Jane didn’t know if it was a warning or a plea.

The demented bot paced in front of them, waving its limbs as though he had some sort of control over them as they flapped about.

“Secrets, secrets, secrets… So many secrets. All of them have secrets, yes, but Tony, you know exactly which one of yours I’m referring to, don’t you? How do you think your Captain would feel if he knew what I could tell him?”

Even from across the room Jane could see Tony’s panicked swallow. He was terrified.

“Tony…” warned Steve. He was standing just next to Jane and tension radiated out from his body.

“Or how about Doctor Foster? What would she say, Tony?”

What?

With his arms wrapped around her, Jane felt the rumble that began in Thor’s chest. She leaned further back against him, seeking his protection.

“Not exactly a team player are you, Tony? Never mind. I am.”

With that announcement, the twisted Ultron-bot lifted both arms and from behind him burst a dozen Iron Legionnaires, every one of them lit up in battle mode, their repulsors shooting deadly beams throughout the room. She screamed and Thor pushed her back down to the ground, sheltering her with his bulk and when another body tumbled to her other side she knew Steve had done the same.

“What do they seek?” yelled Thor to his Captain.

“It doesn’t matter! We need to destroy them before someone gets hurt!”

Together the two men moved Jane to safety behind the bar, Thor carrying her and Steve shielding them both with his body. She would have been upset at being treated like such a damsel in distress but damn it, she was a damsel and she was in distress and no, she could not handle it. With a silent admonition Thor motioned for her to stay low and hidden before he and Steve both jumped back over the bar and into the fray. Jane huddled in a ball and tried not to flinch with every crash or yelp, praying to Frigga that her people were okay.

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

“That was dramatic,” rasped the creature, shaking its steel head. It looked like something out of one of Bucky’s pulp novels, something that Steve as a youth had only ever imagined could be possible.

The common room was littered with mechanical detritus, the aftermath of the brutal destruction of over a dozen of Stark’s legionnaires. Tony had tried his best to shut down the Iron Legion program with his remote device but Ultron was somehow blocking it, which meant the bots had to be defeated physically. Barton managed to find Steve’s shield and he and Thor had wrecked at least six of the mechanical monsters themselves, quite literally tearing them to shreds.

“Dramatic… but ultimately useless. These… metal shells, these flimsy puppets… they are replaceable. For every one you break, I can build a hundred others. Humans, on the other hand…”

Ultron flapped his disjointed upper limb towards the bar area Steve and the others had deliberately tried to keep the fight away from, knowing it was where Jane was hiding. In painful slow motion, Steve watched a final Iron Legionnaire, one they had all missed, rise to stand at its full height with a petrified Jane Foster in its grasp.

“Jane!” boomed Thor, who immediately made to go to her.

“Uh uh uh,” tutted Ultron. “None of that,”

The last legionnaire swivelled its torso to reveal a circle of long needles that extended from its fingertips that pressed in and formed a pointed collar around Jane’s neck. The little spots of blood dribbling down the column of her throat was evidence enough of how tight those needles held her. If she so much as sneezed she would be dead.

Thor froze.

“What madness is this?” the Asgardian Prince demanded, his voice addressing Ultron but his eyes never leaving the robot that held Jane. “What games do you play that you would threaten an innocent?”

“Madness?” Ultron scoffed. “Not madness. The Avengers are a poison, a toxin parading as medicine. I am the one who can see clearly, the one who can see the truth for what it is. You are killers and liars and most of you are both.”

Steve found his voice.

“The Avengers save lives. We _protect_. We fight for freedom and for peace.”

 Ultron tilted his head to the side, a surprisingly human movement for a jumble of scrap metal. “So says the Champion of the Century, the Knight of Human-Kind. Steel thee thine aegis, warrior, gird thy strength. You have been lied to your entire life, Captain Steven Grant Rogers, and you are being lied to still. And by one of your own, no less.”

Steve flicked his eyes to the other side of the room where Tony stood stock still, refusing to return his gaze.

“I don’t care. Tony may be keeping things from me but he is my ally and my friend. I trust him.”

“Do you? I wonder if Doctor Foster would be as generous?” Ultron swivelled at the waist to face Jane. “Speaking of generosity, Doctor Foster do you know how much money Tony Stark has spent on your experiments? I’ll tell you, it’s a lot. Obscene, quite frankly. Hundreds of millions of dollars over four years. Why do you think he would do that, Doctor Foster? You met this man what, three weeks before your friend disappeared? Why would he invest so much to help you bring her home?”

For a moment it looked like Jane wouldn’t answer but then she jerked in the Legionnaire’s grip. More blood trickled down her throat. “T-t-tony is my friend too,” she stammered. “He helps me because he cares for me.”

This time Ultron laughed out loud, a crinkle of foil grating against steel. “Shall I quote Agent Romanoff? Mr Stark displays compulsive behaviour, is prone to self-destructive tendencies and demonstrates textbook narcissism, so claims the Black Widow. And narcissists, Doctor Foster, care only for themselves.”

“Don’t do this,” begged Tony, desperation etched into every line on his face. “You don’t need to do this,”

“What does Tony Stark want?” Ultron called out, raising his arms and twirling in a show to address the entire room. “What is the one thing that Tony Stark wants more than anything else, the one thing his genius and his connections and his fortune cannot buy?”

Instead of answering his own question, another voice recording rang out from the speakers in the ceiling. It was Tony’s voice.

“ _JARVIS, run it again. You know the routine. Darcy Lewis, Lillian Evergreen.”_

All the air rushed from Steve’s lungs like he had been punched in the sternum. Lily… What was Tony doing with Lily?

“Fuck you, Ultron!” cried Tony. “I might be a narcissist and I might be an asshole but this is just fucking cruel!”

“ _Again, JARVIS. Lets switch up the names this time. Darcy Lillian Lewis, Lily Barnes, Lily Rogers, Lily Barnes-Rogers… Again, JARVIS. Lily Darcy. Darcy Evergreen. Darcy Rogers… Again. Darcy Barnes, Darcy Rogers-Barnes, Lily Lewis…God damn it, she has to be there somewhere.”_

“Tony?” Jane’s voice wavered.

Holograms activated around the team, their blue glow casting an otherworldly glow. Dozens of images flashed into existence, publicity stills of Lily, pictures of Lily on stage, from interviews, from the glossy magazines of his time. It was like his old scrapbook had been flung in his face. She was just as beautiful as he remembered. Then came pictures of Lily as an agent with the SSR crew, with Peggy, with Howard. More of Lily and Howard, in New York, in London, in an airplane with Howard teaching Lily to fly, Lily and Howard dancing together at a party.

“Tony what is this?” He barely recognised his own growl. He heard Jane gasp but he was too entranced to look away from his soulmate’s face.

The pictures of Lily changed then, to the blurry overexposed black and white shots of war time correspondence. In some of the shots Steve recognised Agent McNamara as well as another man Steve thought might have been Lily’s chauffeur. Lily in uniform in a camp, Lily in fatigues in a ravaged Europe, armed to the teeth and carrying a rifle as big as she was.

Then came the worst, those images Steve had seen last year in New Jersey. Lily in her ripped fatigues, strapped to Zola’s table. Jane was sobbing now.

All of a sudden the screen turned to coloured images of a baby girl with blue eyes and dark curly hair and a big smile, dressed in a pink sundress. The same girl being held by a man, possibly her father by the similarity in their looks. More and more images flashed through a parade of the girl’s life, showing her as she grew, and the older she got the more familiar she looked until suddenly Steve’s Lily was on the screens smiling at him from next to a sign that read _Culver University_. Then Lily standing in the desert with Jane Foster flashing a peace sign. Then Lily and Thor linking arms and raising their glasses in a toast. One more image, a ‘selfie’ of Lily and Jane standing together outside Stark Tower. It was the last and it lingered on the projected screens for several moments before they all flickered off again.

“I don’t understand,” Steve whispered.

He turned to Ultron but the robot was no longer there. He’d vanished.

The silence roared in his ears, broken only by Jane’s sobs. He looked over to the bar to see Jane in Thor’s arms, Natasha pressing a cloth against the astrophysicist’s neck and the last Legionnaire nowhere to be found. He must have zoned out, glitched like a bad computer program.

“A family,”

Tony was in front of him now, looking as old and as tired as Steve had ever seen him. When he gave no reply, Tony tried again.

“A family. That’s what I want. That’s what I’ve been trying to get back.”

“Why…?”

“Why didn’t I tell you?” Tony rubbed his hand over his hair and huffed out a deep breath. “Same reason I didn’t tell Jane. False hope is a fucking bitch. It would have been cruel to force you to lose her all over again if I couldn’t… if Jane couldn’t… Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I made the connection years ago. Growing up, she was everywhere, photos of her, stories of her. My dad really did love her. Aunt Peggy did too. But when you’ve already lost so much, I couldn’t let you live with a hope that might never come true.”

Steve didn’t have a response to that. His brain wasn’t working properly, he couldn’t think.

“Steve. Tony.”

Barton’s voice cut through the blur and both Steve and Tony gave him their attention.

“Ultron took the sceptre.”

 

 

* * *

 


	7. 2015 - 200 miles off the Australian Coast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ongoing Adventures of Fisherman Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Did we all survive last chapter's emotional reveal? Here's a breather for you then, just lots of lovely... oh darn, is that more angst I see??
> 
> Love you so much, my sweet peaches  
> -Rubie
> 
> P.S.  
> For those of you who are interested, this chapter is set to 'Ghosts' by the Presets:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Di5AT4MI6BY

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Alrighty, listen up you bunch of slack arseholes. This is the last haul then we’re due back in Darwin in time for the pre-dawn market and in case you’re as stupid as you look that’s where we get paid. No fish, no money, no food for our next leg of the season and I promise you you’re gonna get real hungry. I want those lines reeling in within the hour, each fish doc’d and weighed. If you fuckers don’t get every one of those fish on ice within thirty minutes of being brought aboard I’ll replace the lot of you with a crew who actually knows which hole their shit comes out.”

Considering he’d been onboard for a couple months now and had grown used to this routine, James was able to hold himself back from chuckling at his skipper’s creatively verbose enthusiasm. Just barely. One of his newer crewmates wasn’t as conscientious and snorted out loud, which brought down the mighty glare of a wound up Captain Tommo. James was impressed. It was a good glare. Even if everyone and his dog knew it was all for show.

“Cheers, Bingo, for volunteering to supervise line pull.”

“Aww, Skipper, come on Bro…” Bingo whined at the punishment. Supervising line pull meant hours of perching above the reel station and watching out for snags in the miles of fishing lines as they were reeled in and was easily the worst job of the haul. It wasn’t the most physical job nor the most difficult, just the most boring and Bingo was a young kid not too far out of high school and hated sitting still. He would have made the worst sniper. A couple weeks ago Tommo picked him up somewhere along the North Australian coastline and at first he’d kept to himself like a stray dog wary of being kicked but in time he’d relaxed enough, even going so far as to join in the evening poker tournament Toffa started up. James knew the kid still slept with a knife under his pillow but hell, most of them did, so he didn’t bring it up. Just like the rest of their rag tag crew, Bingo’d never fished before, never been on a boat, and yet Tommo took him on anyway. Just had a good feeling.

“Come on nothing. Maybe one day you’ll learn when to shut the fuck up. Jase, you’re on first shift of line pull proper, then Flea, then Rotor. Morg, Kip, Duncan you’re on doc’ing and weights, Smitty, Boof and Paulie you’re on rehooking. Freddie you and Jimmy can prep the ice, with Flea and Rotor coming in to help finish up once they’re done on the pull and have had a chance to rest their arms. Toff’s the man on deck as usual, Bluey’s his second. Pull hard, boys, I want every line wound up in the next ten hours.”

James was well aware by now that there was no point in protesting Tommo calling him ‘Jimmy’ instead of ‘James’. And as long as the skipper called him Jimmy, then that’s what he was called. Better than Boof or Flea, he reasoned. The enormous Maori man who began the journey with the name given to him by his mother but who was now known as Freddie (after Freddie Mercury because of a particularly impressive falsetto) grinned over at him and he nodded back, keen to get started on their shift. Being on ice prep meant shovelling and pressing the precious and hideously expensive ice to spread over the freshly caught fish within minutes of them being weighed and documented and it was the most physically demanding of all the stations. Which is exactly why Freddie and James were always given the task.

After a few final warnings, half-hearted threats and a couple rounds of inventive swearing that James was sure Tommo must practice at night, they got started on the haul. James followed Freddie down the hatch ladder into the cold room to get ready for the first load of fish to come in. It would be hours of non-stop physical labour until each fish was packed in ice and stored in tight rows of eight foot towers of plastic crates and it was easily the best work James had done since he left the Brooklyn dockyards to go to war in 1942. Better, even, considering he was actually being paid a decent wage and got real break time and proper food and everything.

Within seconds of his feet hitting the steel floor, Freddie started to sing. He was six foot five, as wide as a truck and his arms, chest and back were covered in swirling Maori ink that only barely covered a mass of scar tissue across his shoulders and yet his voice was soft and high as an angel and he had a temperament to match. From the scraps of information he’d put together James knew that in a last ditch effort to help out a cousin, Freddie had been caught up too deep in an illicit arms racket being run out of Denpasar and was about to be added to a very unfortunate list when Tommo cornered him and offered him a job onboard the _Hallelayla_ and that, as they say, was that. New crew member. And if he happened to obsess over guns as much as James did, hey, at least it gave them something interesting to talk about while they shovelled ice for hours at a time. Well, Freddie talked. James mostly listened and sometimes added a word or question when necessary to keep the flow going.

Freddie was just getting into the chorus of an Elton John song when the scruffy sea-salt-blonde head of Smitty poked over the edge of the cold room hatch and pointed an aggressively waggling finger at the giant man.

“Freddie, you fucken disgrace. Your dad’d be ashamed if he knew who you were. You owe me another pack of Monte Carlos.”

“Nah Bro,” grinned Freddie, not pausing his heavy shovel. “You’re just shit as, hey. Not my fault you suck at blackjack. And you swiped ‘em off Boof anyway, no bullshit.”

James didn’t even try to hide his sniggering. Back in 1945 the common gambling currency was cigarettes, sweets and chocolates and here he found himself seventy years in the future and nothing had changed. And by the speed they went through cookies – _biscuits_ , he corrected, reminding himself they were on an Australian boat – the crew of the _Hallelayla_ had sweeter teeth than the Howlies, he’d swear it on his mother’s bible. Which he now remembered clearly enough to swear on, thanks to long days of hard labour and long nights of quiet ocean air and starlight and the safety of literally hundreds of miles of ocean between him and his enemies.

Smitty’s accusing finger swivelled towards him. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the Double Chunks either, arsehole. Just cos you never get caught don’t mean we don’t know it’s you nicking em.”

Lifting his palms in mock surrender, James let his shovel drop and tried to look as innocent as possible which, considering he was a barely reformed leather clad centenarian assassin with little access to personal grooming products a hundred miles off the North Australian coast, wasn’t really that innocent. Both Smitty and Freddie laughed out loud.

“Yeah, yeah, you can fuck right off with your choir boy shit. First round on-shore is on you two ugly bastards and none of the cheap piss or I’ll tell Tommo you stole Toffa’s bear paws.”

“The fuck?” Freddie’s shovel clanged as it joined James’s on the steel floor. “I don’t got no death wish! Tommo’d string up any bloke just touching Toffa’s special Canadian crap,”

“And that’s why you’re payin’ for the good beer, numnuts. Cos Tommo’s gonna believe it from me if I- ,”

With a yelp and the unmistakable drag of denim on decking, Smitty’s head disappeared from view and his elbow bumped on the side of the hatch as it quickly followed.

“Tommo’s not gonna believe shit, you dumb motherfucker,” growled the unmistakable voice of their skipper. “So get your schemin’ arse back to the racks. And first drinks are on _you_ now, shit-for-brains, cos you couldn’t even be bothered checkin’ to see where I was before laying out your stupid plan.”

Smitty’s groaning protests were drowned out by the howls and cackles of a dozen fishermen, both above and below deck, all of whom had witnessed the exchange. With a broad grin and a light heart, James picked up his shovel and Freddie picked up his tune and before long the first racks of the haul were being lowered down and the next ten hours were spent spreading shovels full of the prepared ice over hundreds of ruby snapper. James fell quickly into the hypnotising rhythm of hard labour and good company and he could genuinely admit there wasn’t anything about the day he’d change.

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

James braced his forearms on the starboard railing and let his eyes drift closed, breathing the salt air deep through his nose and out through his mouth and let the gentle rock of the _Hallelayla_ soothe his thoughts. From the narrow stairwell cut into the deck several yards behind him, his enhanced senses could hear the crew in the cramped kitchen-slash-dining-slash-communal area below, their laughter and jeers loud against the soft slap of the ocean waves against the hull. Normally by this time of night they would be already rolled up in their bunks and snoring like overworked zombies but between Rotor and Flea starting up a game of ‘your mum’ with Kip and Duncan, the ongoing adrenaline high of a successful haul and the promise of land in the morning, it didn’t seem like anyone would be getting much sleep tonight.

The door to the stairwell hatch creaked open and the noise from below intensified enough that James was able to make out individual words.

“…so ugly even the tide won’t take her out,” cackled Rotor, producing a roar of laughter supplemented by thumps as the men pounded the tabletop and Kip’s outraged spluttering.

“Yeah? Well your mum’s so ugly your dad takes her with him to work so he doesn’t have to kiss her goodbye,”

Another round of hoots and hollers and high fives and fists banging on tables grew muffled as the stairwell door swung closed again and the slap-flop of familiar footsteps told James who had come up on deck without him even needing to turn around. He wondered if Tommo genuinely had something against protective footwear. And also how many fish hooks got caught in his toes.

Tommo leaned up against the railing next to him and flicked open his zippo to light his cigarette. With the smoke still in his lips, the skipper offered his pack.

“Winnie blue?”

James smiled and nodded his thanks as he took a cigarette and then borrowed the metal lighter. The flame burned bright in the dark of a moonless night at sea, briefly illuminating both their faces before James snapped the lid closed again. Tommo’s weathered features looked even more lined than usual as though he was concerned about something but he didn’t speak straight away and James decided to wait him out. If his captain wanted him to know what was on his mind, he’d get to it eventually.

They’d each finished inhaling their cigarettes by the time Tommo opened his mouth, stubbing the ends in the old tin can that was hung on the edge of the railing. Ash had landed on the leather glove that James wore to conceal his metal hand and he was trying to surreptitiously wipe it on his jeans when Tommo motioned towards it.

“You don’t have to wear that, you know.”

James paused and looked up, a question clear in his eyes.

“The glove. I don’t know what you think it does but it’s not fucking magic and we’re not morons. Well, me and Toffa aren’t.”

Beneath his shirt, James’ heartrate sped up.

Tommo watched the panic flick over his face for a few moments then lit up another two cigarettes and handed him one, before turning so he was leaning his elbows on the railing too. He bumped their shoulders together.

“So yeah, we know it’s a prosthetic,” the skipper said after a deep inhale. “But calm the fuck down, it’s my fucking boat. What I say goes and I say you’re okay.”

James snorted and flicked ash from the end of his cigarette with more force than necessary. “Let me guess. You got a good feeling.”

He knew this situation had been too good to be true. Tommo was going to figure out who he was and then he’d be royally fucked. Would the Captain sell him out? Call in Interpol or the Australian Federal Police? He was wanted internationally after all and he knew the reward for information on him was obscenely high. Just when he had started to let his guard down and finally fucking relax. He should have known better. Monsters like him didn’t get to relax.

“Listen up, mate, and let me tell you something,” Tommo mumbled around his smoke. “And don’t interrupt me, you fucking chatterbox.”

Completely of its own volition, James’ eyebrow rose. A chatterbox. Him. Really?

“Shut up, I’m telling you a story you ungrateful arsehole. Anyway. You asked if I got a good feeling about you? Well yeah, I do. And yeah, I got a good feeling about all the other blokes I picked for the crew. Just the same as I did last season. And the one before that. And the one before that, going back twenty five years. And you know what? Those feelings ain’t steered me wrong yet. Not fucking once.”

A soft pad of boots and the smell of lime oil hair product and Canadian beer heralded the appearance of Toffa, who had obviously caught the mood of their _tête-à-tête_. He sidled up to Tommo’s other side and held his hand out in a silent request for a cigarette, which Tommo indulged.

“I get feelings about people when I meet them. And they’re never wrong. Sometimes the feelings are weak, just a quick idea about a personality. Sometimes the feelings are strong as fuck. I nearly passed out when I met Toffa.”

The skipper sent a fond smile towards his first mate, more emotion in that one private look than James had seen from the captain in seven weeks and he had to look away before he was overcome with… something. Affection. Memory. Jealousy?

“My dad had it too, and his dad, and his dad and so on. Only my dad had it a lot stronger than any of the rest of us ever had. My mum called it a gift at first, right up until it wasn’t. But I’m getting ahead of myself. My dad got feelings about a lot of things and he was always right. People would come ask him for advice, ask him what he thought they should do when difficult choices came up and he never turned anyone away, not even people who doubted him and wanted to prove him wrong. Sometimes he could tell a person which choice was good and which choice was bad. Sometimes both choices ended with something good and he’d tell them that too. Sometimes it was the opposite and Dad would help them choose between a bad outcome and a worse one. He was always honest, even if the news was bad.”

James didn’t miss the way Tommo sucked extra hard on his cigarette or the way Toffa squeezed his bicep.

“When the Government blokes came, I got a bad feeling about them. Real fucking bad. We lived on a remote property, there was no good reason they’d be there. Mum took me out back and I threw up all over her gardenias. When we came back in, Dad was finished talking to them. He didn’t put up any trouble. Not when they wouldn’t let him say goodbye and he only had time to kiss me once, kiss mum once. Didn’t put up trouble when he followed the Government blokes down the driveway, down the old dirt road. Didn’t put up any trouble when they made him swallow a gun barrel and blew his fucking brains out. They left his body there for the dogs to find.”

Here Tommo paused for a moment to gather himself before continuing. His wasn’t making eye contact anymore and his hand was shaking but his voice was firm.

“And you know what I realised, when I got older? My dad’s gift was stronger than mine. He knew what was going to happen and he knew he had to make a choice. A bad outcome or a worse one. So he chose the bad one, to keep me and mum safe from the worse. He was the best fucking man I’ve ever known and he just… let himself be killed. For us.”

Squashing his stub into the metal tin with one hand, Tommo reached for Toffa’s beer with the other and took a long pull like he was a man dying of thirst. Then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and met James’s gaze.

“I’m not as good a man as my dad. Not even fucking close. There’s no way this world is left equal with me in it and him not. But the way I see it, the blokes I find, the ones I bring on board my boat… they’re at a crossroad. One step either way will change the rest of their lives. And if I can bring them here, keep them safe long enough for them to figure themselves out… maybe one of them will turn into the bloke who can replace my dad. Even up the good and the bad.”

The look Tommo gave him was intense and James fought to not look away. This was the look of a man of faith, not in god or the government or hell, even of the goodness of the world. This was the look of a man who gave his faith to _men_ , his fellow earth-bound brethren who breathed and bled and broke. What the fuck had he ever done to inspire that kind of trust from a stranger? And what would happen when Tommo found out the truth about him?

“What do you want from me?” he asked, his voice rasping with suppressed emotion and his cigarette hanging forgotten between his fingers.

“Not a fucking thing, other than for you to do the job I hired you for. And to maybe go a bit easier on yourself. Every man in this crew carries their own shit, Jimmy, and you’re just another bloke with a suitcase.”

Toffa wound his hand around Tommo’s waist and pulled him towards the Captain’s cabin, well aware of the psychological cost of airing all that past trauma. Then when the pair were just about too far away for conversation, Tommo turned back to look at him one more time.

“Oh and get rid of that goddamned glove. You look fucking ridiculous.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 


	8. 2015 - New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane, Tony and Steve talk after Ultron's revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello sweethearts! Ready for some more fun? This time its post-Ultron-being-a-dick and features an astrophysicist, an engineer and a Captain. Oh, and a spider, for good measure.
> 
> Thank you for all of your love, my gorgeous friends. Its very much appreciated. Just a reminder, my tumblr is rubietulips.tumblr.com if you would like that information :D
> 
> Lovelove  
> -Rubie

 

* * *

 

 

It was Natasha who organised the meeting. It was Natasha who took control, who started spouting orders. It was Natasha who corralled him, Jane and Tony into one of the undamaged conference rooms, leaving instructions with the others to begin the process of cleaning up and restoring the Tower.

It was Natasha, who hated leadership, who hated visible responsibility, who was forced to relinquish the security of her shadows and fulfil that role because he was unable to. His mind was humming like a high voltage cable, circling through the same tangle of unhelpful ideas, unable to break free from the caustic thoughts that held him prisoner with their poison.

His Lily was not his Lily.

An entire sector of his life, his own identity was tied up with Lily Evergreen. She was fundamental to his very being, him and her entwined together since 1939 if not before. Steve Rogers and Lily Evergreen. The sickly shrimp and the stage siren. The war hero soulmates. The Captain and the Secret Agent who together took on the Nazis and won.

She’d spoken the words on his shoulder blade and turned them black. He’d seen his own blackened handwriting on _her_ skin, marked by the Universe as his even as he was hers.

She’d seen past his frail exterior and accepted him with all of his recklessness, his brashness, his impulsive decisions.

She’d protected him when the dangers of living in poverty came for him, protected him from the wretched reality of being sickly in a time before decent access to proper food and medicine.

She’d brought him a kaleidoscope of colour when the rest of the world was grey and monotonous, joy when there was aching tedium.

She’d saved his life again and again without ever asking anything in return other than for him to survive.

She’d worn his ring.

Because _she loved him_.

And she was a lie?

At the head of the oval table, Natasha cleared her throat.

“So. Humanity is in danger. Again. Megalomaniacal murder bot and all. But as much as the world needs the Avengers, it’s painfully clear you won’t be able to focus until we deal with this situation,” Natasha rested her elbows onto the table and leaned forward, her eyes stopping at each of them, Tony on one side of her and Jane and Steve on the other.

Jane’s head snapped up and her lip curled as she faced down the Black Widow with an expression few people would have survived giving. “A _situation_? It’s not a _situation_. Darcy is a _person_. She isn’t a problem you need to _fix_ just so you can go off heroing or whatever the fuck you feel you need to do. Darcy is a person and she is _loved_.”

“Her name is Lily,” Tony’s voice was quiet but firm. After Ultron’s revelation, the billionaire had retreated into himself in a way Steve had never seen before. There was no hint of the cocky genius here with them now, just a sad, hurting man. Steve would be lying if he said it wasn’t painful to see Tony’s heartache laid so bare but considering his own pain was threatening to overwhelm him, he had no idea what to do about it.

“It’s _Darcy_ ,” Jane growled back, switching the focus of her ire from Natasha to Tony. “She was born Darcy Lillian Lewis. Her mother gave her that name. It was the name she lived with for twenty one fucking years and it’s _her goddamn name_.”

“She hated Lillian,”

Jane’s mouth dropped open and she stared at him for a full thirty count of silence before closing it. “You’re right, Captain. She did hate Lillian.”

“She told me to call her Lily,” he continued. “When she confirmed we were soulmates. Lily, _not Lillian_ , Evergreen.”

The tiny astrophysicist gaped at him again, then scrubbed at her eyes with the heel of her palms. When she spoke, she did so from behind her hands and her voice was oddly muffled.

“Lily Evergreen was like a myth, an amazing story. One of those untouchable figures from history who Darcy just happened to have a physical resemblance to. Sometimes Darcy would pretend to be her granddaughter to get free drinks at a bar. One year I bought her one of Lily Evergreen’s records for Christmas as a joke. She wasn’t… it wasn’t real.”

 _It wasn’t real_.

His heart clenched beneath a stone fist.

“And then I look at you,” Jane uncovered her face to reveal eyes shining with tears. “And you’re not meant to be real either. And you’re trying to tell me that… that _my Darcy_ was somehow _your Lily?_ In what world does that make sense?”

In a move that surprised them all, Natasha reached forward and took Jane’s hand in her own and squeezed it. The Widow’s face was unusually expressive as she gave a wry smile.

“Our world is full of the strange and incredible. I’m not a stranger to the feeling of the ground opening up beneath us and swallowing any reality we may have built for ourselves. I also think that the people in this room are in the best position to work out what has happened to your friend.”

It was the closest thing Natasha would come to giving the scientist an apology for her earlier brevity and fortunately Jane took it as such. She nodded in return, and pulled her shoulders back. Natasha sent a tight smile her way, then motioned to the quiet, dull man who had replaced Tony.

“Stark. You’ve done the most research here. Why don’t you start?”

“Good idea,” Steve agreed. “Hit us with what you’ve got.”

Tony’s eyes widened and it was his turn to gape like a fish out of water. “You… you’re not mad?”

Steve snorted. “I’m furious. But I also believe you when you said you were trying to spare us from unnecessary pain. And its not like I could have done anything to help in the past four years you’ve known, right?”

“Right. Right. Yeah.” Tony scratched at his beard and then dropped his forearm onto the tabletop with a thump like he had been deflated. “Fuck. I just… I mean, what the hell?”

“For what its worth, _I’m_ still mad,” Jane snarked. “You worked next to me for four years without telling me the truth. We could have worked together.”

“We _were_ working together.”

“You don’t hide data, Stark, not in a lab. We were meant to be partners. Friends. What happened to Team Sci- ,”

“Take your clothes off.”

“ _What?_ ” Tony and Steve squeaked at the same time. Natasha sat back in her chair and calmly tented her fingertips like she hadn’t suggested adding nudity to what was already the world’s most awkward family meeting. At her side Jane’s expression had quickly shifted from anger to shock to cunning and she now sported a smirk to rival Natasha’s. Her anger at Stark was entirely forgotten, which was probably Natasha’s intention all along.

“You heard me. Let Doctor Foster see your mark. If Darcy Lewis really is Lily Evergreen, then Doctor Foster will recognise her handwriting. If not, then it has really all been just a case of mistaken identity and we can all move on.”

Steve flicked his gaze to Jane then to Tony, who merely shrugged. “Actually yeah, it’s a good plan.”

Knowing full well that his face was already scarlet and that the blush probably extended down his soon-to-be-revealed torso, Steve grit his jaw and stood. He unbuttoned his shirt with angry twists of his fingers that threatened to pull the little plastic discs off completely if he wasn’t careful, then shucked it and turned to display his back to the room.

“Satisfied?”

Silence. Then-

“Oh Frigga,” Jane moaned. “This is all real. Darcy is Lily,”

“Jane?” His embarrassment was forgotten as the tiny woman collapsed inwards and started to shake. He looked up at Nat for guidance and she just tilted her head and glared murder at him until he reached out to embrace Jane in his still bare arms. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and melted and Steve could feel her wet tears on his chest. He sent another panicked look, this time to Tony who he hoped would be more helpful than Natasha.

“What? Oh. Okay. Right. Information. Uh…” Tony stood from his chair to pace the length of the table and back, buttoning and unbuttoning his thoroughly ruined suit jacket as though he couldn’t think if his fingers weren’t moving. The engineer motioned to Jane, who was still curled up against Steve’s chest and couldn’t see it anyway. “So, Jane, uh, you’ll know some of this. Starting from birth rather than chronologically. Well, chronologically through one sphere, less so through another. Or at least not chronological in the traditional sense. Or perhaps this whole loop _was_ in the traditional sense but then became altered? Or perhaps a paradox- ,”

“Tony…” Natasha warned.

“Right. Well. Uh. Darcy Lillian Lewis, just like you said. Born May 22nd, 1991. Only child to Master Sergeant Addison Lewis and ANC Lieutenant Stacy Lewis. Grew up on an Pennsylvania army base, lived there until she was eighteen.”

“ANC?” asked Jane, lifting her head from Steve’s damp collarbone.

“Army Nursing Corps,” Steve replied, a small smile tugging the side of his lips. Lily being an army brat of master sergeant and a nurse made an awful lot of sense. No wonder she was never intimidated by men in the service. “Where are they now?”

“Stacy Lewis died of cancer when Darcy was fifteen. Addison died on tour in Afghanistan when she was eighteen. She left for Culver right after.”

Oh Lily.

Jane met his eyes and he noticed hers had begun to dry now. “It’s why she cares so strongly for her friends. Darcy has no living family.”

“That’s not true.” He tried an encouraging smile. “She has us, right? Lily told me her friend Jane was closer to her than any sister ever could be. And you know Peggy Carter started a whole markless soulmate movement because she was inspired by how much Lily cared for you.” He looked over to Tony, who had stopped pacing to watch Jane’s expression. “And Tony. You’ve poured years of yourself into trying to get her back. If that’s not family, well, I don’t know what is.”

“Clint tells me that family is less about whose blood we share but whose blood we’d spill ours for.”

“Agent Romanoff, that’s creepy. Sweet, but creepy,” Jane sniffed, lifting herself entirely from Steve’s arms and resettling herself in her own chair. Steve took advantage of the movement to replace his shirt.

“Just like Barton,” Tony sniggered, not quieting even when Nat flicked a pen that hit him square on the forehead.

“Regardless, we now have to discover how Lily-Darcy ended up in the past. I imagine that isn’t an easy feat,” Natasha said, steering the conversation back on course.

“Pssht,” Jane waved her hand. “That’s the easy part.” Noticing the rest of their group staring at her like she was mad, Jane coughed and continued. “My work has been attempting to create cross temporal rifts, controlling tiny tears in the fabric of dimensions. Space, specifically, like from Earth to Asgard for example. Until now time travel has only ever been theorised, the power and control needed to achieve it far beyond our means, but technically time is just another dimension. With enough strength, it could be possible. _IS_ possible, as Darcy’s appearance in pre-war New York shows us. Somehow that lab explosion created enough… something… to transport her.”

“Lab explosion?” Steve didn’t like the way that sounded.

“Oh.”

Jane and Tony shared a look, then Tony pulled up his tablet to tap on it. “It will be easier to show you.”

Steve took the offered device and watched as Tony enlarged a display of security footage from what he recognised as Doctor Foster’s lab. He watched Jane and Lily – _Darcy_ in this time– and their assorted assistants move about their tasks until they were interrupted by a flood of black clad militants armed with SMGs and white coated scientists swarming the lab, some carrying strange looking equipment. Darcy flipped a table and dragged Jane down next to her, covering her and ordering the other assistants to do the same on their side of the room. Steve smiled. Of course Darcy would think to protect Jane before herself. The video ticked forward, showing the enemy setting up their equipment and aligning it with Jane’s, and one of them shouting unheard orders, his face growing increasingly red as he was ignored. Darcy was speaking to Jane, who nodded, then Darcy did the unthinkable. Even knowing she survived, Steve’s heart stopped as he watched Darcy stand from cover and approach the bizarre apparatus and its surrounding scientists.

“What is she _doing?_ ” he spluttered.

Sighing, Jane shook her head. “We’d run out of time. The madmen were calling for me to go help them else they’d start shooting hostages. We knew we couldn’t let them achieve whatever it was they had set out to achieve so Darcy pretended she was me in order to get close to their equipment, then fried it with her taser.”

Sure enough he watched the screen as Darcy did exactly that. Then an enormous blast whited out the screen. When vision was returned, the lab was in chaos. The explosion had completely annihilated the equipment and there was no sign of the people who had been standing closest to ground zero of the detonation. Those a few feet away were nothing but ash and scorch marks, then those further away again were badly burned corpses, then the next were moderately burned corpses and so on in ongoing rings of destruction. Jane, protected somewhat by the desk, lay injured but conscious, her mouth opening in a silent cry, her lips forming the word _Darcy_ over and over as she tried to crawl out of her space. Within moments Stark security rushed the room and took control of the scene and then Tony tapped the screen again and the feed stopped.

Steve’s heartbeat was frantic. Even though his mind knew better, his eyes were telling him that he’d just watched Lily be killed in that blast. How could anyone survive that?

“She just… disappeared?”

Jane nodded. “It was my hypothesis that the enemy’s goal of forcing a rift was successful, which is why there was no evidence of Darcy or the others closest to the impact centre. The machines I recreated served to attempt to locate the previous rift in space. In simulations it was successful, however in practice it failed each time,”

“But if the rift wasn’t in space, but in _time_ …” Stark interjected.

“Exactly. With this information, we can recalibrate the equipment, then offset the Asgardian crystal with… something I haven’t thought of yet… to stabilise the attempted wormhole enough to identify and target the anomalistic energy through the crystal’s excess output. It will be difficult because we’ll need something to counterbalance the crystal and anchor the reformed off-swaying equilibrium to actually _control_ the rift, as opposed to the original directionless one, plus it will use an enormous amount of energy to simply reorientate it all but…” Jane’s face lit up with an inner fervour. “I think it’s possible. I think it can be done.”

Tony snapped his fingers. “Loki’s sceptre.”

“What?” Steve was lost. He had no idea what Jane and Stark were talking about, other than the words ‘possible’ and ‘can be done’.

“The sceptre can redirect the anomalistic energy into itself, its powerful enough to recapture potentially a limitless redistribution. It’s done it before, when it- ,”

“Yes! And then we can offload the- ,”

Steve rubbed his temples. The serum stopped most headaches from forming, but this one felt like a doozy.

“Wait,” he interrupted. “Are you saying the only way to get Lily back is to use the sceptre that Ultron just stole?”

“Well, that and- ,”

“Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Right,” Steve looked at Natasha, who wasn’t even attempting to hide her self-satisfied grin. “Call in the others. Let’s bag ourselves an Ultron.”

 

* * *

 


	9. 2015 - Darwin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy down the local with the lads, chuckin back a couple bevvies.
> 
> (Or, the chapter in which Bucky and the crew of the Hallelayla go to a bar in Darwin and have a few drinks)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my sweet darling friends!
> 
> A couple things to help you with this chapter. 
> 
> 1) I include a mention of an actual facts real LEGITIMATE [daily newspaper ](http://www.ntnews.com.au/news/northern-territory/the-nt-news-most-talked-about-front-pages/image-gallery/14c34390b2dd6b44f3998a7ccd289f03), not a satire paper, called the NT Times. It is a real newspaper, it exists, and it is absolutely genuine.
> 
> 2) The soundtrack for this chapter (you'll know when it comes up) is this [electronic music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EAwWPadFsOA&list=RDEAwWPadFsOA&index=1) as linked below too.
> 
> That being said, without further ado I present to you - the crew of the Hallelayla.
> 
> Let me know what you think!  
> -Rubie

 

* * *

 

 

The crew of the Hallelayla sprawled themselves out across several hastily shoved-together tables and wobbly metal chairs beneath the shaded terrace verandah of one of Darwin’s finest port side establishments, if by ‘finest’ one meant ‘cheapest’ and by ‘establishment’ one meant ‘rusty tin shed masquerading as a bar in the middle of an asphalt carpark’. They’d well and truly made the space their own with their usual indecorous behaviour and loud shenanigans, too used to the freedom of having hundreds of miles of salt water between them and their neighbours to worry about disturbing the pub’s other patrons. Any concern James might have had about their obnoxiousness was eased by Tommo, who explained that this was practically expected behaviour in this part of Darwin. With a half grin twisting his salt-chapped lips, the skipper shifted his copy of the [daily newspaper ](http://www.ntnews.com.au/news/northern-territory/the-nt-news-most-talked-about-front-pages/image-gallery/14c34390b2dd6b44f3998a7ccd289f03)to where James and Freddie next to him could see it and gestured at the front page article. There was an image of a topless man drinking from a beer bottle that had a snake wrapped around its neck and the headline, ‘ _WHY I STUCK A CRACKER UP MY CLACKER – Local man tries to impress mates by lighting firecracker wedged up his bum, ends up with second degree burns.’_

James shook his head and exchanged a look with his Maori friend. This town. He flexed out the fingers of his metal hand, uncovered since his chat with Tommo the night before. No wonder nobody spared him a second glance here, what with all the weirdness that seemed to be organically produced in the area. He’d worn his nicest jeans and shirt for the night and shined his boots as best he could but he needn’t have bothered. Not even half of the crew had sleeves on their shirts and a third weren’t wearing shoes at all. As Freddie said, people in the Northern Territory genuinely gave zero fucks. It was incredible.

“Your mum’s so ugly she has to sneak up on the mirror.”

It was Kip and Duncan against Rotor and Flea again, their insult battle from the previous night not having come to a definitive conclusion. James had to admit some of the slurs were quite clever, even if the mildest one of them would have seen him murdered on the streets of Brooklyn in 1938. _Nobody_ talked shit about another man’s mum… err, _Ma_ … back home. But like so much else he’d learned on this trip, nothing was sacred to an Australian’s sense of humour - anything and everything was fair game to be mocked as long as the taunter was willing to receive the same in return. Fairness was, after all, part of the Australian national ethos.

“Your mum’s so fat that when she went swimming England tried to plant a flag in her and drop off their convicts.”

The group exploded in hooted laughter and applause and a chorus of _Ooo_ and _Burn!_ and _Take that!_ and even Tommo cracked a smile. Kip’s palms slapped the tabletop and he stood up fast enough to knock his chair over.

“Alright wanker, that’s it, this shit is getting sorted _now_. Come on, Dunc, I got an idea,” the man said, pulling his mate inside to the bar.

While Rotor and Flea mouthed off about their opponents running away from the fight, Smitty and Boof emerged from the flapping saloon-style doors of the bar holding the necks of several beer bottles in each hand and presented them to their crewmates with a flourish and a bow. Then Smitty produced an amber filled tumbler on a plastic tray and offered it to his captain.

“Why mister Smitty, I do declare. Are you flirting with little ol’ me?” drawled Tommo in the flattest Australian male’s version of a southern belle James had ever heard.

Rather than becoming embarrassed or insulted like most heteronormative males, Smitty laughed and tipped his head to indicate Toffa. “No offence, Skipper, you’re hot shit and all but I like my nuts where they are. We’ve all heard the stories about Canadian special forces. Takes a lot to get em angry but when they’re there…” Smitty shoulders shook with a mock shudder. “You might murder me, Skip, but Toffa…”

Tommo raised his scotch glass in a silent toast to his mate, who’s muttered “ _Keener!_ ” wasn’t quite hidden in a fake cough.

Suddenly an explosion blasted from inside the pub with a roar violent enough to shake the table, and James was on his feet in fractions of a second. The slim throwing knife hidden in his jeans was already in his fingertips before he realised there wasn’t actually any threat and the sound that had startled him was just the thunderous baseline of some dance music starting up. Freddie’s beefy hand came up to settle on his shoulder and he used the weight of it to ground himself back to reality and remind himself he was safe. They were safe. There was no threat. It was just a stereo. He was fine. Fuck. Tucking his knife away again James settled back down in his seat with his face turning scarlet in embarrassment at his overreaction but to his relief several others were in the same boat and were themselves surreptitiously returning weapons to their hiding spots. He sent a grateful smile to Freddie, who just nodded in return and retracted his hand like there hadn’t just almost been a mass homicide because too many guys with weapons and violent pasts just had their PTSD triggered. James took a long swig of his beer, thankful for the distraction it provided from his shaky thoughts. He liked this crew, liked being with them. He liked the man he was when he was with them, as though he was just another reject in a bunch of outcasts. The possibility that he could do something to jeopardise his place with them was-

“ _Mortal Kombat, motherfuckers!”_

With the pounding [electronic music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EAwWPadFsOA&list=RDEAwWPadFsOA&index=1) still blaring, the doors to the pub burst outwards to reveal Kip riding on top of Duncan’s shoulders and holding aloft a borrowed speaker while his ride carried a set of pool cues that had thick wads of towels wrapped around each end and duct taped in place, obviously doctored to become the world’s crappiest pugil sticks. They looked more like oversized double-ended toilet brushes than gladiator’s weapons but James kept his mouth shut, eager to see Kip and Duncan’s plan.

Still riding on Duncan’s shoulders, Kip lowered the speaker down to Toffa, who wisely placed it on the end of the table as far away from the duellists as possible. Then Kip pointed his arms at Rotor and Flea, ignoring the hollers and calls of the other men, and yelled loud enough to be heard over the music.

“We, the mighty and powerful Kip and Duncan, best of all men and obviously the sexiest motherfuckers in Darwin, challenge the losers Flea and Rotor for being utter tossers and talking shit out their arseholes and generally being fuck knuckles! We demand they settle the matter _mano e mano,_ man to man, just them and us and my CUE TIP”. Kicking Duncan’s chest with his heels, Kip leaned down and said “Get it, Dunc? _Cue_ tip? Cos it’s a pool cue and it looks like-,”

“Shut up dickhead and chuck us one,” demanded Flea, already standing up and climbing onto the seat of his chair. Rotor was clearly a few minutes slower on the uptake and oblivious to what was going to happen because when Flea launched himself up onto Rotor’s back he wasn’t ready to catch him and the two of them crashed into their table, flipping it and sending it smashing to the floor in a tangle of limbs and a roar of laughter from the group who did absolutely nothing to help. While Rotor was still gathering himself to his feet again, Flea was already trying to climb onto his shoulders and wrapping his arms around Rotor’s forehead to hold on, causing him to stumble further. Out of a sense of mercy, compassion and second hand embarrassment for their obviously dim-witted and still struggling friends, Freddie put the table back to rights and James caught Rotor as he tipped backwards, then pushed until they were both standing fully upright, Flea sitting proudly on Rotor’s shoulders.

“Couldn’t you have waited til I stood up?” Rotor whined, staggering beneath his load. “You’re fucking heavy,”

“Shouldn’t have missed leg day then, hey?” replied his cargo, kicking his legs. “Hup! Mush! Heeyah!”

The crewmen of the Hallelayla took the stereo and spilled out from the terrace and below into the carpark in front of the pub to form a loose circle around the ‘gladiators’ who seemed more interested in slinging insults than learning how to use their improvised weapons. A huge grin split James’ face and he stood to cross the verandah and join Freddie who was leaning against one of the support posts. This was going to be hilarious.

“Bunch of hosers,” said Toffa, shaking his head. He whipped out a phone and started tapping the screen like the mob of screaming idiots a dozen yards away definitely did not, in any way, shape or form, have anything to do with him.

“You got it, love,” Tomma agreed, kissing Toffa’s temple as he got up from his seat. “I’m off to take a slash.”

As James predicted, the ‘bout’ was hilarious. And painful to watch. And gloriously entertaining, judging by the number of random newcomers who had arrived to witness it all go down, swelling the width of the circle surrounding the fighters. He personally didn’t know any gladiators but he would hazard a guess that if any professionals were to see Kip and Duncan and Flea and Rotor right then, they would cry themselves to sleep for the next decade. Rotor was still having balance issues, unaided by Flea continually overextending with his ‘cue tip’, and Kip and Duncan kept having disagreements as to which direction they should be facing and wound around in a continuous wobbly circle. Occasionally the two teams would crash together in a storm of Australian accented cursing and fumbling weaponry, and if either fighter managed to score a hit on the other it was mostly by chance. James’ sides burned and tears leaked from the corners of his eyes as he howled with glee. He hadn’t laughed like this in eighty years.

Flea and Rotor won the first round when Flea managed to knock Kip’s weapon out of his hands, even though Kip declared it had been a dirty move because he’d been distracted by a tricked out car shredding its tyres in the next carpark over.

Kip and Duncan won the second round, when Kip swung his stick like a baseball bat and the perpetually unbalanced Rotor dropped Flea face first into the dusty gravel when he tried to dodge. To his credit, Flea came up spitting and insisting on another round.

“Straight up, bro, you guys are an embarrassment ey?” Freddie called out, cupping his hands around his mouth to make sure everyone on the block heard him. “No wonder you don’t got no women after ya, don’t even know how to use your own sticks,”

“Aww fuck off, Fred!” Kip yelled back. “Not all of us got fucking Maori weapons training instead of going to school. Bet you can’t add up your shopping list though can you?”

Freddie sighed and flicked the back of his hand against James’ shoulder, arching his eyebrows in question. “It’s no _taiaha_ but I can make it work. You wanna show this mob how shit they are, cuz?”

James grinned back. He could do with some exercise anyway. He was just about to kneel down for Freddie to get on his shoulders when the doors to the pub swung open behind them and James heard the thumps of Toffa’s boots and the slaps of Tommo’s sandals as they dashed outside.

“No time for fucking around, boys,” Tommo said, his voice breathy and rushed. His face was drawn and serious and he threw a set of keys at a waiting Toffa who caught them in one hand. “Toff go clear out the weapons locker, they’re gonna need it all. Ours as well as theirs.”

Toffa nodded, waved a quick salute then made off running towards the boat. Something was very wrong here.

“Sir?” James asked, his eyes already scanning for threats. The crowd in the carpark were still focused on the now re-engaged gladiators and he couldn’t hear anything suspicious from inside the pub but something had set the skipper on high alert and that thought sent shivers down his spine. He fought to stay calm, to stop himself from sliding back into the lethal chill of the Soldier. He couldn’t lose control here.

“Listen, Jimmy, we gotta move real quick,” muttered Tommo, low enough that only James and Freddie could hear. “I’ve got a mate with a chopper owes me a favour, I can get you to Denpasar. Freddie, I want you to call your cousin. Jimmy needs his jet. He’ll be there in two hours.”

Freddie straightened, already pulling his phone from his pocket. “Going where?”

“Toffa’s contacts say something big is going down in Sokovia. We need to get Jimmy there asap, you as well if he wants backup.”

Before he could ask, Tommo grabbed his arm and was moving him towards a smaller carpark around the side of the building and a row of dusty cars. One of them chirped when Tommo hit the button on another set of keys and they veered over to it. Freddie followed behind, still in earshot, his phone plastered to the side of his broad face.

“One of Toffa’s contacts came through with a warning. Your boy’s up to his neck in trouble and he needs you to pull his overly patriotic American arse out of the fire,”

 _Steve_.

James stumbled, his legs literally tripping over the news, and he panicked. Steve. Steve was in trouble, was in danger. Steve _needed_ him, but unless he was triggered into that terrifying uncontrollable trance-like state he wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore, didn’t have that brutal keenness, the intense edge of a being more weapon than man. He had just tripped over himself, for fuck’s sake, how could he-

Wait.

How did Tommo know about Steve?

Oh God.

He gulped in a succession of great lungfuls of air, choking on the red Australian dust, his chest heaving in and out. He stuttered to a halt, his legs no longer obeying him while a cacophony of thoughts buzzed in his brain, his mind working overtime as he tried to process too much information at once. Steve was in trouble and Tommo knew about Steve and Tommo knew about him and knew who he was and what he’d done and Toffa wasn’t as **_ex_** special forces as he claimed and Toffa had contacts and they knew, they _knew_ and they were gonna-

“ _Breathe_ ,”

A dark meaty paw settled over his chest, its twin pressing into the same spot but on his back and Freddie squeezed, centring the flood of sensation drowning him down to two concrete points. The hands shifted in and out when James’ chest swelled with each breath and he focused on the touch. After a thirty count, James opened his eyes to see Freddie and Tommo wearing matching expressions of determined concern.

Tommo spoke first, his eyes boring holes deep into James’s soul.

“Yes, Toffa and I know who you are. Yes we know who your mate is. Yes we’ve known all along, since Jakarta. That’s not the concern here now. What it boils down to, mate, is that you’re going to have to suck it up and trust us on this one because if there’s one man in this world who might be as good as my dad was, it’s that flag wrapped bastard and he needs to stay alive. The war stories I heard told me that no matter what fucking mess they were walking into, Sergeant Barnes always had Captain America’s six. That changed, Jimmy?”

Breathless, James shook his head. “No, Sir,” he croaked. “No it hasn’t.”

“Then get in the fucking car. You’re going to Sokovia.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> taiaha - a traditional Maori weapon


	10. 2015 - Sokovia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of Sokovia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darlings! Sweethearts! My precious peaches!  
> Thank you so much for your responses for the last couple of chapters. You've filled up my heart with love and my brain with ideas.
> 
> I've had a few requests to write a one-shot/spinoff SO I thought I would ask your opinion on which to write. Could you please leave a comment here or on my tumblr (rubietulips.tumblr.com) and let me know which of the following you would like the most?
> 
> 1\. (1940) Steve and Bucky receive a parcel from Lily  
> 2\. (1940) A magazine article interviewing famous stage singer Lily Evergreen  
> 3\. (1943) SSR Agent Lily in Europe with her team taking on HYDRA bases (Lily, Mac, Vern and Kolya)  
> 4\. (1990) Tommo and Toffa first meeting  
> 5\. (modern) Crackpot article on the disappearance of WW2 Agent Lily Evergreen. Murdered by Nazis? Or abducted by aliens? OR BOTH?  
> 6\. (modern) Legitimate history article on WW2 Agent Lily Evergreen  
> 7\. (modern) Poker night on the Hallelayla
> 
> Which one should I write?
> 
> Thank you again, my dear friends.   
> -Rubie

 

 

* * *

 

 

He was outnumbered. He was outnumbered quite badly actually but considering they all were Steve didn’t think too much of it. He threw his shield in another devastating arc, shattering several of Ultron’s automatons, then leapt up a brickwork embankment, kicked another one in the face and caught his shield on its return.

“Captain, looks like Wanda could use a hand,” Clint called across his comm.

Steve launched into a spin, taking out two bots at once. There was still at least a dozen approaching him and half that number again blocking the alley that led to Wanda. He was just about to reply to Clint when a heavy spray of bullets demolished the enemies in his path, opening up space for him to pass through.

“Thanks Hawkeye,” Steve breathed, before taking off at a run.

He had already made it to Wanda’s side when he remembered that Clint had chosen his bow for this mission and couldn’t have been responsible for the deadly spray that had helped him. He shrugged it off – it was probably the Sokovian police force helping them out.

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

Pulling the terrified young girl in close to him, Steve crouched down behind his shield and braced his arm to let the enemy’s fire bounce off the vibranium. Backing himself and the girl further into the now mostly rubble corner of what was once a building, Steve scanned for a possible exit strategy and came up blank. Two bots both armed with laser weapons had penned them in from two different angles. He’d have to take at least one hit before he could take them out, two if he was going to leave the shield covering the child.

“Stay here. Do not move from behind this shield,” he commanded the girl. She stared at him wide eyed and he realised she probably didn’t speak English. He removed his arm from the shield’s strap and tapped the leather with his finger, then pointed between it and her. “Shield. You. Stay.”

_Crack_.

_Crack._

Someone was shooting into the rubble, high calibre by the sound of it. A rifle, not the laser weaponry of Ultron’s automatons.

“Avengers, do we have a friendly sniper in the downtown station area?” he asked, holding his comm. He and the girl were still behind his shield and he was reluctant to leave its protection without more information.

“Negative, Cap, Hawkeye is in the northern quadrant and all police forces are evacuating civilians to the west,” Natasha replied.

Steve listened, waiting.

Silence.

He peeked over the edge of his shield. The two robots who had pinned them were now headless metal corpses.

_Please be friendly, please be friendly, please be friendly_.

Shifting his shield to cover just the girl, Steve rose to his feet and stepped away from the concrete corner. When no bullets came for him, he breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Come on, honey,” he smiled at the girl, lifting her onto his hip with one arm and holding his shield over her with the other. “Lets get you to the lifeboats.”

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

Steve dodged between the empty cars and abandoned bicycles on the bridge, ducking the lethal blue beams of the murder bots’ weapons. He’d had to abandon his shield a few minutes prior when it was caught in the side of a van and he’d needed to tackle a civilian out of harm’s way and now he was trying to not die on the way to getting it back. A bot landed in front of him, arm-gun aimed at his head. He rolled and flicked out his foot to trip it then punched its face in and smirked when it caved with a satisfying crunch.

The whir of thrusters announced more bots landing behind him. Still crouched, Steve twisted to face them when the first bot’s head exploded into shards. Before he could react, the second, third and fourth went down in the same manner and he realised his unknown possible ally was back.

“I need to get to the white van on the south side of the bridge!” Steve yelled. “I need my shield!” He didn’t know where his new friend was or if he could be heard at all over the chaos of the battle, but it was worth a try, right?

“No can do, Cap, the team’s nowhere near you,” Tony called back. “You’re on your own until you can get closer to the centre of town,”

Was he?

_Crack._

_Crack._

He watched as another two bullets dropped another two bots. One-hit dispatches, precision shots direct to the centre of the head. His helper was obviously a talented marksman but Steve didn’t have time to admire his skill, not when he needed to get past an army of sentient metal murderers to get to his shield. Steve sent up a quick prayer that he wasn’t about to get himself killed then stepped out of cover, putting his trust in the unknown gunman. Another pair of robotic heads shattered into nothingness, and Steve jumped to kick out the chest of a third one before bolting towards the van and his shield. A spray of automatic gunfire sealed off the bots’ path behind him, protecting him from the rear as another perfect shot took care of the enemy in front of him and Steve laughed out loud as he realised the truth of the matter. He didn’t have a deadly guardian angel – he had _two_.

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

_The Avengers had assembled in the chapel, their one goal to stop Ultron gaining control of the drill either with his main form or with any of the army of robots he had created. They were exhausted, mind and body and soul, but had rallied for one last push. Together, they would stand._

 

**“Cap.”**

 

_Every inch of space that Pietro’s speed gained them was lost but a moment later. For every one of Ultron’s creatures that Wanda destroyed, two more took its place. When Tony and Thor went high, the bots went low. When Clint and Natasha went low, the bots flew out of their reach. Together, they fought. Together, it looked like, they would fall._

**“Cap.”**

 

_His limbs burned with the fatigue of battle. His fists and feet lashed out, his elbows and knees shattering each piece of metal they came in contact with, but it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough. Ultron was gaining ground. Steve smashed his shield into the neck of one monster, pulled it out, twisted, and threw it through the torso of another and in between those two movements a bullet landed its mark in the face of a bot that had managed to out-flank him._

_“We’ve got another fighter in the ring!” yelled Nat. “Loyalty unknown!”_

_Steve sent his fist through another bot. “They’re friendly!”_

_“They’re?”_

_“Two long ranged guns, skilled, they’re helping!” he replied. He was concerned that his guardian marksmen hadn’t yet evacuated with the other Sokovians but he couldn’t deny their help was appreciated. He hoped they were somewhere safe and their nest was as low to the ground as they could find – even he could tell the air was getting harder to breathe._

_Tony’s repulsor singed the hairs off Steve’s forearm as it blasted an enemy that had moved in too close. “I’ll take ‘em. We can use all the friends we can get.”_

_A dense line of automatic fire flattened a dozen killbots and Clint whooped._

_“Hell yeah, we’ll take ‘em!”_

 

**“Steve.”**

 

_It was only after the fight ended that he realised what had set him so on edge about the unknown gunmen. After Ultron turned the very city they stood in into a weapon of global destruction. After the team and SHIELD successfully helped the Sokovian police evacuate literally thousands of innocent people. After Tony and Thor executed their brilliant plan and an empty Novi Grad exploded into dust. After Pietro was lost and the Vision, that bizarre brain-child of Stark’s that sounded like JARVIS, killed Ultron’s final form._

_One of the marksmen, the one wielding the automatic, had been extremely helpful. He – or she, perhaps, Steve didn’t want to assume – had saved them over and again from being swarmed by enemy robots. He or she had kept their distance and was careful with their targets, making sure the spray stayed on course against the hardened steel of the mechanical monsters and avoided the fragile flesh of the Avengers. The literally life-saving cover provided had saved their bacon time and time again._

_The other marksman, the sniper, was exceptional. He – and Steve had a feeling it was very much a he – took almost no time between shots that would have taken a lesser gunman several moments to gauge and then line up. He was uncanny in his accuracy, never once missing the centre of a perfect shot. Unlike the other unknown ally, this one confidently fired into the middle of the fray and even though Steve heard the whizz of the bullets, he hadn’t worried he was about to be hit. The sniper seemed to focus primarily on Steve, protecting his flank and rear and allowing him room to more effectively throw his shield – and it was this that finally clued Steve in to what his instincts were screaming at him._

_No one else, not Natasha, not Clint, not any of the STRIKE teams, could predict the arc of Steve’s shield with this level of accuracy. No one else knew when and where he would twist his torso to send it out or tuck his arm to catch it on its return to the finest degree that left just enough space for a rifle round to zip through. No one else knew just exactly how Steve moved the brutal weapon that was his body, how to cover the few spots that he couldn’t defend to the point where Steve stopped thinking about it and just trusted that his sniper would know what he was about to do. He fought like a burst river flooding down a mountainside, fluid and deadly and inescapable, his course marked out for him by his sniper’s golden bullets. He fought like he hadn’t fought in seventy years. And then he knew._

 

“Sorry, what?”

“You alright, man? You totally spaced there.”

Clint tilted his head to the side, and raised an eyebrow. Luckily it was just Clint and him here in the UN’s media atrium for his little trip down memory lane otherwise Steve was sure he’d be getting interrogated by the team’s other resident spy. Unlike Clint, who knew the value of a man keeping his private thoughts private, Natasha’s rapacious curiosity knew no bounds whether they be the boundaries of friendship or common courtesy. Fortunately for him once the Avengers had concluded their portion of the press conferences regarding the Sokovian Incident, Natasha had chased after Fury and left Steve to muse on his thoughts alone in the swiftly emptied press gallery. Almost.

Steve ran his hand across his jaw in an attempt to bring his focus back to the present and looked out at the sea of chairs that had an hour ago been packed with reporters from dozens of countries, every one of them salivating at the chance he might slip up in some way. Damned reporters. They hadn’t changed from his own time, always out for a scandal. He’d held it together and gave them the kind of answers he was known for- commending the rapid response of the Sokovian military forces and civilians, acknowledging their success in minimalizing casualties, condemned the evils of those who would endanger innocents for their own agenda, and thanked his team for their hard work in saving as many lives as they had. No specifics given, drama downplayed, praise liberally spread, all par for the course. However despite his success in dealing with the press, part of him was surprised it had taken him this long before he gave in to the temptation of thinking about Bucky. That he had possibly been there in Novi Grad, _helping_ Steve…

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Just… it’s been a long day.”

“Amen to that. Rampaging death bots, flying East European cityscapes, Tony Stark’s sense of humour… its enough to give even a super soldier a headache. Not to mention finding out that the key to finally locating your soulmate who’s been missing for seventy years has just up and transformed into a probably-but-not-certainly less murderous version of the guy you were just fighting…”

“Wait, what?”

“Uh... Were we not meant to be talking about that out loud yet?” Clint joined him in staring out at the empty seats in front of them and crossed his arms to tuck his hands under his armpits as though that would stop him from further conversational slips. “Don’t go listening to me, Cap, no good can come from that- ,”

“Clint.”

“Shit,” Clint slunk forward to drop down into one of the chairs of the front row. “Just… I heard the chatter about how Loki’s sceptre was going to be able to bring your girl back and I figured its gotta sting, you know? I mean, Ultron destroyed it when he made the Vision.”

Steve sucked in a breath. Clint was right. The sceptre had been destroyed in Seoul when Ultron attempted to forge himself a new body, when the Maximoff twins had discovered his true plans to use Sokovia’s capital city for global annihilation, when they’d had to chase him down from across the globe. That was three days ago. _Three days_. He’d been so caught up in the fight to defeat Ultron and then the sort-of-possibly-almost appearance of Bucky that he hadn’t even spared the sceptre a thought. Tony and Jane had both agreed that the sceptre was pivotal to their plans to rescue Lily, that they couldn’t go ahead without it and he’d just… _forgotten!_ He’d forgotten the plan to find her, to bring her home. He’d forgotten Lily _. His Lily._

“Oh fuck,”

He didn’t make it to a chair. Instead he collapsed straight down, folding at his knees and his waist and holding his head in his hands.

_He’d forgotten his soulmate._

And now the sceptre was gone.

“Birdbrain, what did you do? Did you break our Captain?” Tony Stark sauntered over to them, resplendent as usual in his tailored designer suit. “You know that’s against the rules, the Spider Queen gets first crack.”

“I, uh…” Clint sighed. “Yeah. I think I broke him.”

Above his head Clint and Tony engaged in some kind of silent argument based on pointing, mime and overly exaggerated lip movements but Steve was too lost in his own misery to spare them a thought. Then Clint stood and marched out of the room without a backwards glance.

Tony adjusted his suit and squatted down next to him, holding a hand out towards his shoulder like Steve was a feral dog about to spook.

“So, uh… the sceptre, right? This is about the sceptre? And Lily?” When Steve didn’t respond, Tony dropped his palm on his shoulder in three hard pats and quickly withdrew his hand again before he continued. “Well, uh, listen Cap, its okay. Its alright. There’s going to be some, uh, minor adjustments, of course, and we’ll need to work out how Vision can do his… thing…  and Banner is MIA… but it’s all good. It’ll be alright.”

Steve lifted his head from his hands to meet Tony’s eyes, doubt shining clear from his own.

“You don’t believe me, and that’s okay. Hey, I mean, not everyone can keep up with my level of genius, I get it. But you gotta trust me on this one, Cap. One way or another, our girl is coming home.”

_Home_.

His heart twisted as his mind called up the nightmare that Wanda had tortured him with in Ulysses Klaue’s salvage yard. It was him and Lily dancing on stage at Jubilation Hall, her in her stunning silver gown and him in his dress uniform, twirling her across the chandelier lit marble as she laughed and gifted him that glorious ruby smile. Then Bucky tapped him on the shoulder, one hand already holding Lily’s and told them it was time they left the Hall. The war was over. Their home was waiting for them, all three of them.

Home was a war and seventy years ago. Home was Bucky and Lily alive, surviving Zola and HYDRA and all their tortures. Home was the three of them together in a way they had never been given the chance to be before the cruel hand of fate tore them apart.

“Home doesn’t exist,” he whispered.

 

 

* * *

 


	11. Lily Evergreen VS The Media

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily Evergreen VS The Media  
> OR  
> How Rubie decided to combine the three most popular one-off suggestions into one amazingly long super-chapter! Woo!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS THANK YOU SO MUCH!  
> Your comments and votes were just brilliant. And to say thank you, I present to you a double-length chapter incorporating the three most voted for one-off ideas, which were the various ways Lily Evergreen has been portrayed in the media. Some of it is utter crack. Some of it is genuine. And there is one small section of an interview with Lily herself from 1942.
> 
> Enjoy! And please tell me what you think, I love hearing from you. Your kind words are just magic. And even the name calling and swearing is good!  
> All my love  
> -Rubie

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Star-girl, you’re out of the lab! Gasp. And is that an honest-to-god paper book?”

Tony walked around where Jane sat at the kitchen island in the facility’s common room to grab an apple from the fruit bowl. Thinking about it, he grabbed another one and set it down in front of Jane. Thor was still off world so she’d no doubt forgotten to eat for like, ever, despite the fact she was literally sitting in a kitchen.

“Hey Tony,” Jane smiled, picked up the apple and took a bite. “Mmm. Yeah, it’s a book about Lily Evergreen. Thought I’d get to know Darcy’s other life, you know? Besides, the machine’s still only partway through phase one of recalibrating to Vision’s new… thing… so I’ve got time on my hands.”

“That doesn’t explain the paper book. Trees died to make that, you know. Trees, Jane. And you like trees.”

“Well I mentioned it to Natasha earlier and it turns out Clint’s got an entire bookshelf of these. I think he had a crush when he was young or something, which is kind of weird now we know about Darcy being Lily.”

Tony choked on a laugh and bits of half-chewed apple flicked across the benchtop. “That’s perfect. Coulson and the Captain, Hawkeye and Agent Sweetheart. No wonder they’re mates.” He reached his hand out and flicked over the cover of the book to see the author’s name. “Amada? Have fun reading that hack. He makes so much shit up. Although part of it was definitely Lily and Dad just messing with people. You know they probably forged her entire identity, right? Not to mention that I only spent three weeks with her and I could tell Darcy was a troll even before she met Dad.”

“Mmhmm,” said Jane through her mouthful. “Yeah, it’s pretty amusing to read between the lines there. You think anyone would believe us if we tried to tell people the truth?”

“Believe me, kid, the amount of trash that’s been written about our girl, no one would even bat an eye. One time a journalist wanted my DNA so he could prove I was Lily and Howard’s love child.”

“That’s ridiculous! You were born in what, like, the sixties?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Seventies, you ingrate. And the theory was that Howard froze Lily’s eggs and waited for technology to advance enough to have her child in absentia.”

Jane squinted her eyes and slowly chewed her apple, staring at his face for a full minute before Tony huffed out a breath of frustration.

“Its not true, Jane! Stop reading this crackpot stuff, you’re losing your ability to reason.”

“Alright, alright. Just a few more…”

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

(blurb from the back of the book Jane was reading, published mid-2000s)

 

**LILY EVERGREEN, THE NEW YORK GIRL THE WORLD FELL IN LOVE WITH**

Some know her as the classic era bombshell whose bedroom eyes and sultry voice stole the hearts of a nation with songs that still resonate with their audiences today. Some know her as the vivacious vixen whose legendary physique graced the cover of over four dozen magazines in the span of less than five years. Still others know her as the courageous and determined warrior woman who brought a war-soaked Europe to its knees and joined other war time heroes such as Peggy Carter and HRH Princess Elizabeth to usher in a new wave of feminism based on the competence and fortitude of women who gave up their own world to protect ours.

Yet what do we know of the real woman behind the legends? Before she was the stage siren or the spy or the soulmate of America’s Beloved Son, just who was Lily Evergreen?

Born in 1919 in a basement apartment in Ridgewood NY to a woman who died mere hours afterwards, Lily’s arrival into the world was less than auspicious. Everett Evergreen, Lily’s father, was known as a drunk and a lout and spent much of his time away from the family home and Lily was raised by her grandmother whose work taking in laundry was the sole source of income for the household. They survived, although not easily, and Lily spent her school years in various arrangements of employment in order to supplement her grandmother’s meagre wage. At fifteen, tragedy struck again when Lily’s father died from complications relating to dipsomania. According to letters written by Lily’s grandmother, Evelyn, the family home was happier without him.

In 1937, Lily Evergreen was just another unknown and invisible orphan running errands for her grandmother amid the harsh streets of New York. However a chance meeting with Edwin Jarvis, personal valet to Howard Stark, where Lily showcased her extraordinary blend of beauty, wit, talent and spirit, soon changed the course of her life – and ultimately, the world’s.

In this latest work, Leroy Amada digs deeper than any journalist before him to discover more of Lily’s early life, including extracts from letters between Lily and her grandmother, interviews with Edwin Jarvis and his wife Ana and the original recording contract between Evergreen and Stark that would skyrocket Lily from obscurity to national icon.

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

(magazine article, 1990s)

 

**CAPTAIN AMERICA: HERO OR MURDERER?**

New evidence has been revealed that may suggest the possibility that America’s ‘Agent Sweetheart’ Lily Evergreen was not lost in Europe as it has long been officially held but rather died in her own apartment here in New York after what could have been a brutal attack. Was she the victim of a jealous rage at the hand of her soulmate, Captain America? Jordan Pynne, founding member of Traditional American Families For America, believes so.

“It’s clear to anyone that of course a dominant alpha male like Captain America would be jealous of his soulmate becoming intimate with another man. Add in the fact that the other man was none other than his own best friend, Sergeant James Barnes, and there’s no need to look any further for an explanation. This is the reason why TAFFA strongly discourages all Americans from forming soulmate Triads rather than the True Pairs that nature proves is the best way. It’s simply too dangerous. If even Captain America was unable to resist his baser instincts to secure his mate, how could any other man be expected to? Parents, encourage your double-marked children to stay safe – and choose _one_. Don’t let them end up like Lily Evergreen.”

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

(magazine article, 1942 – interviewer in italics)

 

**FIVE FAMOUS FAVORITES: LILY EVERGREEN EDITION**

_Favorite color?_

Blue, naturally. A shade darker than royal blue but not so dark as a true indigo. More of a delicate navy. It’s become somewhat of a lucky color- I seem to be wearing it when exciting things happen.

_Favorite food?_

Peaches. I adore peaches. When they’re in season it’s lovely but even when they’re not I find it is has been quite convenient at times to have a spare tin of peaches on hand. I encourage everyone to indulge in a little tinned peach hoarding. For their health, of course!

_Favorite song?_

“Don’t leave me,” by Billie Holliday. It is so evocative and pure and beautiful in its own way.

_How about of your own?_

All my songs are dear to me in some manner. However if I had to choose, there is a song I’m working on at the moment called “Not if I can help it”. It’s from my upcoming album which Howard has marked for release in Spring. The song is about all the ways a woman can reassure her sweetheart that she cares for him despite often being apart.

 

_Favorite place to perform?_

Jubilation Hall, no question about it. It’s a small venue, which I find lovely and intimate. I have cherished memories of Jubilation Hall and sometimes just thinking about it will put a smile on my face.

 

_Favorite place to live?_

Definitely New York.

_More specifically?_

Brooklyn. I am reliably informed that the best things in America come out of Brooklyn and I’m inclined to agree. I love it there and all of its people. They’re just so wonderfully welcoming. In fact, should I ever feel the need to settle down in one place I will no doubt make Brooklyn my home.

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

(British tabloid, 1970s)

**AMERICAN WAR TIME HEROINE A SECRET PRINCESS**

Sources close to the Royal Family expose the long whispered suspicion that the famous American Agent Lily Evergreen was actually a false cover for an adventurous Princess Margaret, Queen Elizabeth’s sister, who has been known for her outlandish and daring behaviour in the past. Did the American government conspire with the Royals to doctor a secret identity for the Princess during the war? Did Captain America know? And is Captain America Princess Margaret’s true soulmate?

Read on to find out!

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

(Video Footage of an NBC Interview with Peggy Carter on the ten year anniversary of Lily Evergreen’s disappearance, November 1953)

 

The interviewer is not in the shot and only his voice can be heard. Carter is dressed in a smart plum-coloured pantsuit with an ivory blouse, her hair stylish but not overdone and her makeup light. She sits relaxed in a plush armchair on a slight angle from the camera, a small smile on her lips.

“Can you tell me, Agent Carter, your first impressions of Lily Evergreen, the woman America is now calling Agent Sweetheart? How you met?”

Peggy’s smile widens and she looks down to her hands in her lap for a moment before resuming eye contact with her interviewer.

“That was… Let’s say that the time I first met Lily Evergreen was educational, for me at least. I had just flown in from London, you see, and I was quite exhausted and keen to reacquaint myself with my pillow for a dozen hours or so. And here comes Howard –Howard Stark that is–  thundering down the hallway of my hotel not caring a whit that he was loud enough to call down the entire staff and demanding we leave that moment to visit a friend of his, never mind that it was almost midnight. And you know Howard, he’s not one to take no for an answer so much to my annoyance I found myself trundling along behind him across town to see his friend. _Howard_ , I said. _Howard, if you are recruiting me to assist you in gaining access to your current paramour, be warned I shall be cross_. And Howard, the villain, just laughed. So you see, when Howard knocked on the door of another hotel room and Lily answered, this utterly stunning creature with a face and hair and figure just as lovely as Howard could dream, I quite assumed the wrong thing entirely.”

“What was it you assumed?”

“Well, to start with Lily was already in her nightclothes. It was past midnight, you remember, so I suppose it shouldn’t have been unexpected. But here we were standing at the door of a beautiful, intimately clad woman in the middle of the night and I let my assumptions of a liaison carry me away. I’m quite ashamed to admit I berated Howard right there in the hallway, loudly and at great length, until it struck me that Lily was _laughing_ at us. Can you imagine? She must have thought me quite the odd duck. Anyway, she explained the rather familial relationship between herself and Howard and then invited us in for midnight tea. By the time the sun rose, I’d learned that although yes, Lily was beautiful, she was also clever and sharp-witted and utterly devious at cards. And she became the dearest friend I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Several history books have painted you and Agent Evergreen as adversaries within the SSR, with rumours of backbiting and slander. What would you say to that?”

Peggy scoffs loudly and rolls her eyes. She uncrosses her ankles and resettles herself in the armchair, obviously agitated by the question.

“Utter rubbish. Complete tosh. Lily was my rock whenever I needed her and I am proud to say that I fulfilled that role for her in turn. We were staunch allies. The only people who believe that Lily and I were at each other’s throats are the type of people who are unable to comprehend that two women can work together without resorting to catty and spiteful behaviour and that many workplaces have indeed benefitted from hiring multiple women at once. As Lily herself so often pointed out, there is room for us outside the home, you know.”

“Speaking of the home, Agent Carter, you are one of the few people who knew all three members of the Rogers-Barnes-Evergreen Triad. What would you say to those who claim triads to be against the natural order?”

“I would remind them that this is the twentieth century and we should leave the ideology of the dark ages back where it belongs. Yes, I knew all three of the soulmates and I am in the privileged position to be able claim a friendship with each one. I am in no way surprised that the universe tied those souls together. They are each of them heroes, strong and courageous and loving and kind. This world is a better place for them having lived in it.”

“Was Agent Evergreen ever jealous of the relationship between you and Captain America or you and Sergeant Barnes?”

“Of course not. We were professionals, we each had duties that required our attention and we trusted each other implicitly. I was aware, obviously, that there was a link between Lily and Ste-, err, Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes, however it would have been rude of me to pry. Then by the time the boys were touring Europe Lily had already been sent on her mission.”

“You mean Project Perennial, Agent Evergreen’s final operation?”

“Yes.”

“What can you tell me about Project Perennial? President Truman once described it as ‘pivotal to the success of the War’.”

Peggy’s lips press hard, forming a flat line.

“Obviously I can tell you very little, only that it was indeed key work. Lily and her team, often at extreme risk to themselves, collected intelligence from some of the most remote and treacherous areas in Europe, the vast majority of the time with no support and no communication, which, I can tell you, was terrifying for me as her friend. But Lily was determined and indeed it _was_ worth it, in the end, even if only two thirds of her team made it home. While I cannot enter specifics, I can tell you that Lily gave us the information we needed to later send out Captain Rogers and _his_ team, without which the Commandos would have been incapable of their own victories.”

“You mention that two thirds of Project Perennial returned. Could you elaborate?”

“Indeed. Agents Martin McNamara and Charles Vernon returned home with full honours in late ‘43. Without Lily to lead it, Perennial was dissolved. Vernon was offered a post in the new pararescue teams of the United States Air Force, where he naturally excelled. Marty, as you no doubt are aware, retired from service to become a writer and a homemaker for his soulmate and their children. Your audience would of course be familiar with Marty’s works regarding his time in the war with Lily and Vernon.”

“Are you still in contact with them?”

“I would be a poor Godmother to little Margaret and Lillian if I wasn’t. Yes, I spend many long weekends with Marty and Patricia and their beautiful family. Vernon and I correspond on occasion, however our commitments do rather limit the opportunities we have to meet.”

“If you could say one last thing to Agent Evergreen, what would you choose to tell her?”

Peggy’s lips twist into a sad smile. She brings a hand up to play with the necklace at her throat, a thin gold chain with a pendant that looks like a bird of some sort.

“I would say… Well done, ducky. Jane would be so very proud of you. Be at peace now with your boys, you all deserve it. And… and I’ll see you again one day, dear heart, I’m sure.”

“Thank you for your time, Agent Carter.”

“Of course.”

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

(Advertisement in a women’s magazine, 1960s)

 

**WEIGHT LOSS SECRETS OF AGENT SWEETHEART AND THE ORIGINAL BLONDE BOMBSHELL AGREE**

Feel puffy? Bloated? Unable to shift those last few pounds?

Want to lose weight but still stay womanly?

Find out the decades-held dieting secret that Lily Evergreen passed on to Marilyn Monroe!

We’ll give you a hint – the secret is as spicy as the ladies themselves!

Keep those fabulous curves but lose the puff! Sign up now!

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

(Video footage from a national news station, early 1980s)

 

A camera-man follows a reporter in an aqua pantsuit with enormous shoulder pads as she chases an aged Howard Stark down the steps outside a New York courthouse. A flock of grey-suited lawyers surround Stark but the woman squeezes her way through to gain access to the millionaire.

“Mr Stark! Mr Stark!” calls the reporter. “Can you confirm your reason for visiting the courthouse today? Have representatives of the Rebecca Barnes Trust accepted your settlement? Were you attempting to gain control of the Evergreen estate for the fifth time since Agent Evergreen’s death? When will you give up trying to turn a dead woman into a Stark?”

Howard Stark spins to face the woman, anger etched in every line on his face as he lifts a finger to point at the reporter.

“Listen here, you. This is not about her estate or her fortune or access to her music rights. Becca Barnes understands that. She knows I’m not trying to take anything away from her or her children, the money the Triad left her will always be theirs as it should be. But Lily Evergreen is my _family_. She is _already_ a Stark. And as soon as the courts get their head out of their asses it will be official. End of discussion. Now back off.”

The reporter is left stunned mute while Stark’s mob of lawyers lead him away to a waiting white limousine.

 

  ^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

(LA-based film magazine article, 2015)

 

**JENNY CYPRUS TO STAR IN NEW LILY EVERGREEN FILM, WILL USE OWN VOICE FOR ICONIC SONGS**

Jenny Cyprus is set to return to the big screen in an epic biography of the much loved World War Two spy and victim of America’s favourite romantic tragedy Lily Evergreen, which has already lined up interest from other famous camps. With Jenny’s father Orton Cyprus agreeing to bankroll the film and up and coming director Josh Warwick ready to tackle the historical military genre, it’s full steam ahead for this future as-yet-unnamed blockbuster that will no doubt have the Academy sit up and take notice.

“I just really feel, like, a connection to Lily,” Jenny explained. “She’s super-gorgeous and crazy talented. And she has two really hot soulmates. I mean, she is like, the perfect woman. Except that she’s, you know, dead.”

When asked about whether or not Jenny would be singing any of Lily Evergreen’s classic songs during the film, the young starlet answered in the affirmative.

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely, yeah. I mean, Lily’s songs were from the thirties and forties, right? So imagine how good they’ll sound when I’m singing them here now in 2015 with modern production. It’ll be a blast and who knows, I’ll probably kick start a comeback for her music.”

No film concerning Agent Sweetheart would be complete without the Agent’s sweethearts though, so just who is in the running to play the iconic roles of Captain America and Sergeant Barnes?

“We’ve had a lot of interest from Denver Julio’s people, so that’s exciting. I can see him turning into a pretty hot Sergeant Barnes. But we’re still deciding on Captain America. It’s a really tough decision, you know? I mean, I thought it would be just perfect if the _real_ Captain America would agree to do my film but apparently he’s too busy at the moment. But he hasn’t actually said no yet so there’s still hope there. I’m like, fingers crossed!”

Representatives for Captain Rogers have declined to comment.

 

  ^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

(Tabloid article, 1970s)

 

**ALIENS LOVE OUR SOUND: AGENT SWEETHEART’S LOST SWEETHEART AND THE KING OF ROCK AND ROLL**

Did jazz-loving aliens kidnap Lily Evergreen and Glenn Miller? Was Elvis their secret love child? Is Sergeant Barnes protecting Elvis from the same fate?

Find out more in this week’s edition of _Untidy Tidings_ , out now.

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

(Article written for NY Times on the 50th anniversary of Lily’s death, 1993)

**WHY I WANTED MY GIRLS TO BECOME SECRET AGENTS**

By Marty McNamara, former SSR Agent and aide to Lily Evergreen

 

I was eighteen the first time I met Lily Evergreen. She was everything I had been expecting and more. And from that first meeting with her I knew that nothing in my life would ever be the same again.

When I was handpicked from my army unit to and encouraged to enter the Strategic Scientific Reserve, I was proud. Probably too proud. I fell in love with the words “Agent McNamara” and I felt like I was a thousand feet tall and could bench lift a hauler. I felt like I was going to change the world. And then Colonel Phillips assigned me as an aide to a singer and my heart dropped out of my chest I was so disappointed. An aide. To a _singer_. What good would I be able to do for my country as an aide to a singer? Shake a sparkly frock at the enemy? Drop them with my impressive sandwich-buying skills? Passive-aggressively take their messages?

I did not present well the first time I met Lily. She was a vision in deep blue, her signature colour, and as pretty off the stage as she was on it but it didn’t impress me. Why would I care about being near a pretty singer in a nice dress when I should be out in the muddy fields with my fellow muddy agents? Lily smiled and shook my hand and was as polite as all the tabloids had told me she would be but I wasn’t moved. Would the soldiers in Europe have had the opportunity to adhere to the finer points of courtesy when they were fighting the real fight? Lily treated me with kindness and respect as though we were equals but I returned it only grudgingly. I craved the orders that a _proper_ superior would give me if I had been given a _real job_. One that _mattered_. I was, for all intents and purposes, a prat.

What I didn’t know at the time was that the ‘singer’ I was assigned to was actually an undercover senior agent of the SSR. What I didn’t know was that I would be pushed and tested and thrown into the very deep end of what it meant to be a secret agent against an enemy that was constantly vigilant. That through Lily and her work I would discover skills I never knew I was capable of developing and grow beyond my wildest dreams to become not an aide to a singer but the leading assistant to one of America’s most influential war operatives of all time. The intelligence we unearthed together quite literally did change the world. The glorious dreams of my eighteen year old self’s imagination were fulfilled, and all thanks to my ‘singer’.

So when my two little girls, Margaret and Lillian, told me they wanted to grow up to be princesses I found their best dresses in their closets and we practiced making tea. When they said they wanted to be doctors I helped them bandage their dolls and feed medicine to their teddy bears. When they decided to be fire fighters we practiced drills and played with the garden hose. When they told me they wanted to be secret agents like their namesakes Peggy Carter and Lily Evergreen, I smiled and taught them how to write in code.

My wife told the girls they could be anything.

Thanks to Lily, I told my girls they could be _everything_.

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

**THE NEW AVENGERS FACILITY, SEVERAL MONTHS POST-BATTLE OF SOKOVIA**

 

“This is amazing. And _awful_ ,” Jane muttered around a mouthful of her neon coloured cereal. In her left hand she held a tablet which was playing an old song of Lily’s that had been manipulated into somehow advertising a type of hair removal cream. Steve was quite sure he didn’t want to know.

He shrugged and sipped his coffee, made from the Stark-upgraded super-coffee-machine that Tony had placed in the communal kitchen. Steve had no idea what Tony had done to make the coffee extra ‘super’ and the potential it was slightly radioactive or something was always a concern but it sure did taste good.

“You get used to it. After a while you won’t even notice it anymore. Pepper will send out lawyers if something crosses the line and Stark Industries has helped the Barnes family with Lily’s estate since the 40s so they’re very good at protecting her image.”

Jane blinked up at him like she only just noticed him even though he had been standing there watching the screen with her for the last fifteen minutes. “Oh. Well, that’s good. I guess it’s still kind of new for me.”

A high pitched chirping alerted him to a call on his phone and Steve nodded and smiled at Jane before turning away to answer it.

“Rogers.”

“Man, do you ever even check your phone? I’ve been messaging you all morning. I had to actually _call_ to get your attention.”

Steve looked at his phone screen. Eleven unread messages from Sam Wilson, three from Stark, one from Natasha. Perhaps he shouldn’t have left it behind when he went to the gym. Or maybe he should have at least checked it when he picked it up again.

“Sorry. I, uh… must have missed the beeps. What can I help you with?”

“Oh nothing, nothing. Just you know, I found one of your anonymous sniper friends from Sokovia and he’s sitting with me right now and we- ,”

“You found Bucky?” Steve interrupted. “Bucky is with you?” His heart leapt into this throat and he strode out of the kitchen, intent on hurrying down the glass lined hallway of the communal section of the facility towards the garage. He needed a car, or a bike, or _his_ bike, or maybe even the quinjet…

“Shit. No, dude, it’s not Bucky.”

“Oh.”

He stopped walking. The all-too-familiar bitter tang of disappointment flooded his mouth and he wondered why he’d even bothered to hope. Since the Battle of Sokovia Bucky had disappeared again, just when Steve thought he might have been coming in from the cold. His friends had all reminded him that Bucky helping out during the fight was a good thing, that it was a sign of Bucky’s mind healing and he tried to stay positive, he really did, but it had been so _long…_

“Man, you’re killing me. I’m sorry,” Sam said.

“No, its fine.”

It wasn’t fine. It wasn’t fine, but it also wasn’t Sam’s fault so Steve tried to reign in his frustration.

Sam sighed. “Look, I’m sitting here chilling with a dude who says his name’s Freddie and he’s your boy’s roommate. Says he’s got a message to give you and only you.”

“He’s Bucky’s roommate?”

That sounded… unlikely.

“Right? The Winter Soldier likes to split the electric bill, who knew? What I do know is this big motherfucker of a dude – _sorry, man, but you are_ – just came up to me right out of nowhere and said he needed to talk to you. Knew who I was, where I was gonna be and just walked straight up. No weapons, no ID, just said he was a friend. Good taste in music. Sweet tattoos. Lady killer smile. Apparently friends with a master assassin.”

There was a muffled noise and Sam laughed out loud.

“Alright, lady-and-man killer smile. What you want me to do, Cap? Bring him in? He seems like he could be genuine.”

Steve closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. If this man was who he said he was, if he really was the second sniper from Sokovia, then it would be the closest they’d ever been to finding Bucky. If he was actually Bucky’s _roommate_ …

“Bring him in.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT WAS FREDDIE


	12. 2015 - New Avengers Facility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie meets Steve, Tony and Natasha!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so for all of you playing along at home I based Freddie's looks on the New Zealand rugby player Ma'a Nonu. He's a gorgeous angel mountain.
> 
>  
> 
> And thank you for your response to the last chapter. It was so much fun!
> 
> Love you all to the stars and back  
> -Rubie

 

* * *

 

 

“Is this really necessary? Sam said he was probably fine.”

Steve motioned through the one way glass of the Facility’s interrogation cell to where an enormous man sat on the only piece of furniture in the room - a spindly metal chair that looked unlikely to bear the weight much longer. Frankly Steve was surprised the chair had lasted this far already– the black man had to be at least six and a half foot tall and the width of his shoulders and chest made Steve feel skinny again. Security had removed the man’s shirt and shoes on his way in, and Steve was as awed by the flow of tribal tattoos that wound around his arms, chest and back as much as he was by the sheer magnitude of musculature on display. This man could put Thor’s body to shame and he wasn’t even Asgardian. Despite the propensity for a man this size to be threatening though, the stranger’s body language was as soft as it could be with the restraints on his wrists. His palms were flattened together on his thighs and his fingers tapped out a rhythm that accompanied the sway of his head and the shuffle of his foot as he sang softly to himself, looking as though he hadn’t just been frozen out for four hours and could in fact wait like this forever.

“He’s an unknown gunman and an the ally of the world’s deadliest assassin who just happens to want an intimate one on one with Captain America. Yes, it’s necessary,” Tony snapped. He’d been on edge ever since the Avengers had run their various background checks on Freddie and had come back with nothing. Tony did not take well to not knowing things.

Steve looked over to Natasha. She’d been standing on guard in her tac suit with a full complement of weaponry strapped to various body parts and glaring into the containment cell since they’d locked Freddie inside. Tony was not the only Avenger who didn’t like not knowing things. She tilted her head to the side.

“This man is either a brilliant spy with abilities to fool even the professionals or he is a complete innocent. And considering the skill he displayed in Sokovia and the fact he is a confessed collaborator with the Winter Soldier, one of these possibilities is more plausible than the other.”

“What if he’s just a good guy?” Steve argued. He didn’t like the way Tony and Nat lingered on the unpleasant aspects of Bucky’s past as the Winter Soldier. He understood why they had to, of course he did, but he didn’t like it. He much preferred the idea that Bucky had been able to shake loose the tail on him and find a safe place to put down roots. And avoid HYDRA and his other enemies. And somehow heal himself to the point where he could make friends. And a roommate who didn’t mind keeping house with an ex-assassin. A roommate who was just a normal, good guy… and who wielded a rifle like he was born to it. Okay, so it wasn’t a _likely_ scenario, but he still preferred it.

Tony didn’t bother replying, just shot him some serious side-eye before opening the outer door and entering the lock chamber, undergoing more security checks and then passing through the inner door to the cell itself. He moved to where both he and the unknown gunman were in clear view of Steve and Natasha behind the one way glass and crossed his arms. He delivered the man a patented Tony-Stark-Looks-Down-On-You-Inferior-Being glare.

“Freddie, is it?”

The man’s eyes snapped open and his full lips spread into a broad smile that was just as handsome as Sam said it would be. “That’s me,”

“Like hell it is. What’s your real name, princess? And don’t bother lying. We can find out the truth any time we like,” Tony warned, his voice not wavering the slightest on his complete fabrication regarding their Freddie-specific information gathering abilities. They’d already tried, after all.

“Kaitiaki Kamaka Ngamoenga,”

In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Steve couldn’t help his lips twisting into a smirk at the utterly blank look on Tony’s face. He resisted, just barely, the temptation to ask Nat if she could spell that out for him.

“Alright, Freddie it is. What do you want with Captain America?”

“Not him, bro,” Freddie’s face was a picture of calm composure, serenity oozing from his pores. “Steve Rogers. Got a message for him, hey,”

 “And that is…?”

“Private, mate.”

 Tony’s jaw ticked. Oh Steve really hoped Freddie was genuine because this was actually kind of brilliant.

“You do realise that you’re currently being held in the most secure facility in America surrounded by the world’s most powerful superheroes? That we _will_ keep you here as long as we need to? I _built_ this place, you’re not going anywhere I don’t want you to, not until you start giving me answers I want to hear. And I want to know the real reason you want Captain America.”

“Sorry man but no one can trap me, not when my heart is full of peace. Just got a message, no lie, no foolin’. One message.”

Freddie’s eyes fell closed and he started humming, tapping his feet again as though the conversation already ended and Tony had left the room.

“That’s great, Gandhi, that’s some real spiritual bullshit right there. Listen, Yoda, you can just keep up with the new age woo woo. Crystals and chakras and starlight. Whatever. But you’re rotting in here while you do. Or, you could just tell me who you are and who you’re working for and we’ll see what we can do for you.”

When Tony’s threat failed to induce a response from the man, he threw his hands up and snorted out an incredulous breath. “Right. Fine. So you’re deciding to be an ass. Good for you. You’re stuck here then.”

Still swaying to the sound of his own music, Freddie cracked open an eye. “If you think I’m the one who’s stuck, you need to take a look in the mirror hey. Yeah, you built this big house and its legit cool and all. But it’s not me you trapped is it?”

Natasha stepped away from the cell’s outer security door just in time for Tony to throw it open and storm out. He didn’t stop to talk to her or Steve, just kept going towards the elevator and shouting for FRIDAY to unlock the special cabinet in his personal bar. No, Tony Stark didn’t take not knowing things well. He’d come back when he cooled off. Probably.

With the doorway still open, Natasha hesitated. _Hesitated._ Then she curled her wrist and beckoned to Steve.

“Natasha?” he asked. “You… you want me to go in there?”

This was not the plan. This was the exact opposite of the plan. The plan that Natasha made earlier with her usual fierce intensity, daring him to argue with her as she laid out the law and read Tony the riot act if he even thought of deviating from it. The one where she would watch the guards and Tony interact with the strange man and examine his responses while they hunted with increasing fervour for any sliver of available information their web of connections had on Freddie. The one where Steve was expressly forbidden any contact until Natasha had cleared him of her suspicion and only possibly even then.

Natasha didn’t respond, just waited for Steve with the door open and he hustled to join her to go through the inner security routine. He didn’t want to give her the chance to change her mind because heck yes he was desperate to talk to Freddie. Tony thought he was a crackpot, Natasha thought he could be some sort of international super spy but Steve still clung to his admittedly unlikely belief that Freddie was just a good guy. Confused maybe, definitely unhealthily blasé about his own incarceration, but a good guy. Regardless of which theory was the correct one though, this man had been in contact with Bucky and Steve wanted to know everything.

When Freddie saw Steve his whole face lit up and that huge grin spread from ear to ear and Steve knew, just _knew_ , that even if nothing else that this smile at least was genuine. Then Freddie’s gaze slid to where Natasha lurked in Steve’s shadow and he laughed out loud.

Laughed.

At the Black Widow.

And Steve would put money on it that somehow somewhere on the facility floors above them Tony suddenly felt the strongest, most overriding feeling of being Right because if this man was daring to laugh in the face of the black widow while sitting in chains in her captivity then he was _definitely_ a crackpot.

Calmly and with more grace than a man that size should be able to govern, with his eyes locked on Nat and his body language non-threatening, Freddie rose to his full height and inclined his head in a respectful nod. His cheeks were still pulled tight in that lucent grin when he spoke several halting sentences in broken Russian.

“Your cadence is terrible but your accent is good. He made you practice.” Natasha’s inflection made it clear who it was she meant by ‘ _he_ ’.

“No lie, little sister, he can be dead set cruel when you don’t nail those hard consonants. I got there in the end.”

Steve’s instincts tripped. “What do you mean cruel?” he asked, his heart in his throat.

Before answering, Freddie eased himself back down into his rickety chair like he had all the time in the world, smoothing his hand over the top of his numerous braids. “I mean forget a few phonetic clusters and suddenly there’s no more Nutella in the pantry. What kind of man does that? It’s _Nutella_ , bro, be cool.”

“Did he withhold food often? What about other necessities?”  Natasha pounced on the revelation, her eyes sharp and intense as she prowled in front of the chair. “Did he coerce you into helping him? Are you being blackmailed?”

Freddie crinkled his nose and sent Natasha the kind of fond little smile a parent gives their toddler when they’ve done something particularly adorable before shifting in his seat and switching the focus of his attention to Steve. He politely but effectively dismissed the visibly stunned assassin from the conversation.

“So, cuz. Questions yeah?”

“What?”

Instead of murdering the man who dared to ignore her as a threat, Natasha accepted the dismissal and sauntered over to the wall near the door to lean against it and Steve’s brain was simply not keeping up with the amount of impossibilities that had occurred in the past few hours. He blinked a few times and then resettled his gaze on the grinning prisoner. He frowned. This was not an amusing situation. It should not engender any type of calm enjoyment, especially not from the person in the handcuffs. In fact, it felt like maybe Freddie was playing some kind of game.

“You know, stuff you want to know? That you want me to tell you?”

The tone was teasing, entirely inappropriate and poking fun at his reactions and suddenly Steve broke through his bullshit limit for the day. He stepped up to Freddie and leaned over to get right in his face.

“Listen to me, son. You’re kicking a very big hornets nest here and either you stop acting like a fool or this conversation is over. Tell us who you’re working for, why you helped us in Sokovia and the truth about your connection to Bucky. Now.”

The irritatingly pleased grin finally _finally_ slid from Freddie’s face to be replaced with a crease between his eyebrows and the little braids in his hair danced as he shook his head. Steve didn’t want to examine why Freddie’s expression made him feel like he just disappointed his mother but regardless the thought was soon pushed from his head with Freddie’s next words.

“Bro. I don’t work for no man other than me. And he went to Sokovia to watch your six so I went to watch his. That’s all there is. He’s my mate.”

Natasha hissed an inhalation and Steve choked, literally thrown backwards by the casual ease of Freddie’s blatant lie.

“He’s not your _mate_ ,” he spat out from between clenched teeth. “He _has_ _mates_. He has two of them and neither of them are _you_.”

“Not my _mate_ ,” Freddie sighed. He scratched at his eyebrow with the fingertips of one of his restrained hands. “He’s my _mate_. My brother from another mother. My cuz. My bro. My friend. Our captain told us shit was going down in Europe, you needed help. Jimmy needed to go to you but he wasn’t ready to be on his own yet. He needed someone to help keep his cool, you feel me? Sokovia needed you, you needed Jimmy, Jimmy needed me. Then I stuck around. That’s it.”

While Steve was momentarily stunned into silence, Natasha reinserted herself into the conversation.

“You have a Captain? Which country’s army is he affiliated with? ”

“None. He’s just a dude with a boat.”

“Navy, then?” Steve snapped. “Which one?”

“None. Dude. Listen. He’s a captain. Not a _Captain_. He has a boat. Me and Jimmy worked together and then word came about you and we left the boat. Since Sokovia, we’ve been chilling in Bucharest and then Jimmy thought it was time to let you know he was good. We reckoned it was better I came in like this without him cos you would probably freak and pull some super heavy hero shit and that would just mess him up all over again.”

“You worked with Barnes?” asked Natasha, ignoring the entirely accurate prediction that the Avengers would indeed have pulled ‘some super heavy hero shit’ on Bucky if he’d decided to be the one to come in. “In what capacity? Are you an operative as well?”

“Shit, no, sister, come on. I just said. We worked on a boat. A _boat_. We caught fish. Played cards. Drank beer. We didn’t _kill people_.”

“But you did in Sokovia?”

“Robots. Not people. And we were helping.”

That tiny flare of hope buried in Steve’s chest started to swell to life again. He sent up a prayer to the heavens, begging the Universe to just give him this one.

“Let me see if I’ve got this right,” he started slowly. “You and your friend Jimmy – my Bucky – were hired hands on a _fishing_ boat. With no affiliation to any organisation or country, you privately made your way to Novi Grad and then have been hiding as peaceful citizens in Romania for these past six months. Now you’ve come to visit me with absolutely no agenda beyond telling me that Bucky is well and delivering a single, private message that apparently only I can hear.”

“ _Yes,”_ breathed Freddie. “That is what I’ve been saying, man.”

For a long moment no sound came from the three of them other than Steve and Freddie’s breathing and the clink of the handcuffs. Then Natasha broke the stalemate and pulled a key from her belt.

“If you are lying, death will be a mercy I will not gift you,” she snarled into the big man’s face then grabbed the chain that secured his wrists to jam the key in and twist until it clicked open. Then she looked at Steve. “Once I’m outside I’ll disable the feeds. You’ll have three minutes before they come back online.”

Just when Natasha was about to leave through the first security door, Freddie called out.

“Маленькая паук. There are three names he cries in his dreams.”

She didn’t say anything or even turn back to them but Steve saw the tension drop from Natasha’s shoulders. Whatever coded comfort Freddie just gave her must have been important and Steve was thankful the man was able to ease her worries at least a little bit. With a hiss of compressed air, the security door closed behind her and Steve and Freddie were alone. His heartbeat sped up, adrenaline running hot through his system.

“Steve,”

Freddie’s voice was deep and gentle and kind and different to the persistently effervescent tones of his previous conversation but no less sincere. He stood to face Steve and opened his arms wide. He didn’t approach, just waited for Steve to move first.

“Bring it in, brother. Got instructions on how the delivery’s meant to go and I tell you I am not losing another jar of Nutella on account of you avoiding a hug.”

Snorting his disbelief, Steve decided to just all out run with the crazy that was this entire situation and stepped up, the brief thought flickering through his mind of how his obituary would be worded if he were to exit this world due to a death by aggressive hugging. Freddie hummed happily and then his huge muscly arms wrapped around Steve’s torso in the biggest, warmest embrace Steve had ever had in his life. He felt like he was back to being 5’4 and 95 pounds, his own body considerably dwarfed by this Maori giant who gripped him like he was a lost puppy rediscovered after a long absence. Steve dropped his head against Freddie’s dark inked collarbone and let himself relax into the grip, confident for the first time since 1945 that someone was there to hold him up.

“My mother named me Kaitiaki Kamaka. Stone guardian of my people. I won’t let you fall, bro.”

Tears burned behind Steve’s closed eyelids at Freddie’s pronouncement and for all the tired old cynic in him wanted to scoff at the solemnity of the unsolicited vow and the unlikelihood of it all instead he gripped tighter at the waist of the man-shaped mountain. Had Bucky felt so at peace with Freddie? Was that why he trusted this stranger enough to share his space? To lower his guard enough that Freddie knew the names he called out in the night?

“Was that it? Was that your message?” Steve mumbled, his voice muffled by three hundred pounds of Maori. He didn’t shift from the embrace. It felt too good.

After Steve felt the gentle rumble of Freddie’s chuckle more than heard it, Freddie answered in the negative. He didn’t let go of Steve either, just squeezed the iron bands of his arms even tighter, protecting Steve from the world a bit longer.

“What is it then? Natasha’s not going to be able to keep the surveillance off for long.”

Freddie shifted his face so his lips were right next to Steve’s ear. When he spoke it was the lightest breath of air, so soft nobody but a super soldier with enhanced hearing could have picked it up.

“You’re a punk. He’s a jerk. _And I’m a distraction_.” Freddie murmured. “He’s waiting for you in your room.”

 

 


	13. 2015 - New Avengers Facility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a reunion!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frigga's crown, I am so excited! You lot left me the best comments after last chapter. I've never been cursed quite like that! Maybe I should take it as a challenge to find a new level of heartache to aspire to? Hmm?
> 
> Please, please PLEASE let me know what you think of this chapter. I'm DYING to know!
> 
> Love you all, my sweet peaches  
> -Rubie

 

* * *

 

 

 

Later, Steve wouldn’t have been able to say how he returned to his private suite at the Facility from the secured cells. Perhaps he vanished only to reappear in a popped bubble outside his own door like Glynda the Good Witch. Perhaps he levitated and floated. Or perhaps he walked in a zombie trance and ignored everyone who called his name as though he had suddenly been rendered deaf with acute tunnel vision. He briefly recalled ordering Natasha to stay with Freddie and watch him, knowing that if her razor sharp attention was focused on the Maori it _wouldn’t_ be on him and the person in his rooms but beyond that it was a mystery. It was not a mystery he cared about though, not when the subject of his love and his soul this past five years and another eighty before that could possibly be on the other side of the heavy wood in front of him, waiting for him to open it up and walk through. He’d never been more thankful he’d refused to let Stark install FRIDAY in his suite.

His heart bashed a frenzied dance against the cage of his ribs.

_Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump._

_Bucky. Bucky. Bucky._

He was here.

With no input from the higher functions of his brain, Steve’s shaking hand punched in his door code, pushed down the handle, opened the door and he stepped through.

The room was darker than usual, the ambient lamps Steve usually left on dull and lifeless and the windows that lined his living area set to their maximum opacity. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it to give his eyes time to adjust to the lack of light and marvelled at the volume of his heartbeat. Could Bucky hear it? Was he really here? It was too dark to see but Steve didn’t want to turn on the lamps and find out his hopes were all for nothing, couldn’t bear risking that soul-destroying disappointment rather than live in this Schrödinger’s hell of not knowing for sure either way.

“ _Stevie…”_

A sound caught in Steve’s throat, something strangled and hurting and raw. A shape moved in the shadows, a smooth glide towards him that even in this darkness Steve _knew_. It wasn’t the deadly prowl of the Winter Soldier, those clipped efficient movements intent only on their goal, but the long lope of a man he thought dead.

“ _Bucky_ ,” he moaned.

All the strength he had, all the stubborn resistance he’d used to prop himself up time and time again, all the dogged determination to _just keep going_ , to keep fighting, all of it vanished and his knees hit the floor, his palms following shortly afterwards. The moan of his lover’s name lengthened into a series of wrenching sobs that tore from deep within him, shredding his insides apart and leaving him a gaping, empty void.

“Stevie… Stevie, I’m here,”

Arms wrapped around him, strong and safe and _so fucking familiar_ , and pulled him to where he could crawl in to Bucky’s side, almost his lap, while Bucky braced back against the door. Bucky crooned and smoothed his hair and murmured vows to the gods, to the universe, to his dead mother’s bible, that he was _here_ , that he _remembered_ , and Steve was lost. He floated in that impossible bubble of love and safety and _Bucky_ and let everything else fall away.

“Quite an entrance, pal. I know I’m not as handsome as I used to be but there ain’t no reason to cry about it…”

Steve huffed a soggy attempt at a chuckle. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand but stayed curled up against his mate. Not even the Hulk could move him away at this point.

“I just… I can’t believe… I waited for so long, Buck…” his voice broke on the last syllable and the tears threatened again.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Bucky let his lips linger on Steve’s scalp, breathing him in. “I needed time to get my head on straight. Couldn’t risk hurting you,”

“You’re here now. Does that mean you’re staying?”

Bucky tensed beneath him and Steve swallowed down the urge to start begging. He couldn’t push Bucky he knew, not when he’d already risked so much, come so far. It was a miracle that Bucky was here at all. A miracle and Freddie.

“Not here. Close by though. I’m still… there’s still bad days, you know? I don’t… I don’t want to hurt people anymore.”

_Oh Bucky_.

“How can I help?” he murmured into Bucky’s neck. The temptation to kiss him was overwhelming and Steve didn’t fight it, pressing his lips against Bucky’s pulse point. Bucky’s chuckle morphed into a groan as Steve kissed him again.

“Maybe don’t… don’t try to get yourself killed every… thirty… thirty… _oh God, Steve._ ”

Bucky grabbed his jaw with his metal hand and dragged him up to meet his lips in a brutal kiss, all need and desperation and fear and longing. Steve twisted around to where he could straddle his mate, rocking their pelvises together while their teeth and lips met time and again, and the world narrowed down to just them, their bodies, their skin, their scents filling up that chasmal void inside him with love and lust and _feeling_. This was what he had yearned for, ached for, for so long. He was built to give this man pleasure, to receive it in return and the only way it could be perfected would be with the addition of the third piece of their souls, their girl, their Li-

A short vibration hummed from within Bucky’s jacket and he pulled back.

“Baby, hold up. Hold up a… a sec…” Bucky breathed. His head dropped back and Steve nipped his throat as he fumbled in his jacket pocket to retrieve a phone. “Its… its… I’ve gotta…”

“Don’t gotta do nothing but love me, jerk,” Steve rolled his hips with enough force to make them both cry out with the thrill of sensation. The phone fell to the side forgotten as Bucky’s hands instead scrabbled at their belt buckles, shoving aside their clothing to free them both. When the scalding heat of Bucky’s palm wrapped around him, Steve swore and jerked upwards into the hold. Every inch of him rubbed against Bucky and stars burst behind his eyelids as his body _remembered_.

“ _Fuck_ ,”

“Stevie, _Stevie_ , God…”

It was quick. It was messy. It was definitely not pretty.

And it was _perfect_.

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

“So,” Clint squished his words past a piece of sandwich large enough to make his cheek bulge like a squirrel’s. He used the rest of it to motion towards the cell where the Black Widow was trying and failing to intimidate their perpetually calm guest. “I got woken up at ass o’clock and told to come in ASAP cos Tasha needs me and all you’ve got is a super-hot singing behemoth you’re not even bothering to handcuff? Lame, dude.”

Tony glared at the archer from behind his blue-tinted glasses and contemplated strangling him just for the amount of shredded lettuce and ranch dressing he was redecorating with and not even because of his shitty attitude regarding a potential security risk he should be taking more seriously. Although on that second point, Tony supposed he was casting stones from his own metaphorically glass house. Earlier FRIDAY had indeed unlocked his special liquor cabinet, the one he reserved for unique occasions, and there was the possibility that perhaps Tony had indulged in one too many medicinals for a time when really he should have been on the clock. Whatever. He was a fucking genius, losing a few brain processes to extremely expensive whiskey was hardly going to shift the balance against him. And its not like Rogers could say anything anyway – he’d gone AWOL altogether.

“Widow said she wanted a second opinion,” Tony shrugged.

“I call bullshit. Nat never tells anyone she wants a second opinion. She might _want_ one but she won’t _tell_ you that.”

“This guy is pinging our radars for different reasons. Clearly I’m right when I say the man’s a nutcase. Jumping on board with the Winter Soldier and mouthing off at superheroes, the guy’s obviously a few fuses short of a full circuit. Cap thinks he’s a regular Joe Citizen we’re maligning, Widow is convinced he’s an international game player who’s somehow managing to get one over her. She won’t back down but she still doesn’t trust Wanda enough to let her do her voodoo schtick and jump into the guy’s brain. So maybe it’s less that the Spider Queen wants a second opinion and more I want you to deal with this so I can go be somewhere that isn’t here. Or get drunk. Or both.”

Clint shoved the last of his sandwich in his maw and wiped his fingers on his shirt. “Tell me what we know about this guy. Other than he’s seriously stacked, cos I can see that.”

“Nothing he didn’t tell us himself. Nobody has anything on him, which is both unlikely and suspicious. Goes by the name ‘Freddie’, says he’s Barnes’s roommate and that he helped in Sokovia out of the goodness of his heart. Capsicle says he’s fine, refuses to let us go with Natasha’s more… strenuous lines of questioning.”

Satisfied that Clint had come to take over Natasha-sitting duties, Tony plopped down in a chair and whipped out his tablet, immediately enlarging the display into a hologram the size of his torso. At least now he could get some work done. And he’d just started to get a handle on rejigging his helmet’s ice-proof film too…

“His accent narrows him down. Australian or New Zealander.” the archer said after a few moments.

“Does it matter? They’re practically the same country. And a convict’s a convict right?”

“Do _not_ say that to a Kiwi. Only the Aussies were convicts.” Clint pressed the button next to the glass window that was linked to Natasha’s audio feed. “Tasha? Its me. Can you ask this guy if its an Esky or a chilly bin? Milo or L &P?”

“Since when did you become an expert on twenty first century colonials?” muttered Tony, manipulating the image of his helmet visor to increase its density with the new film.

“Spent a year at an Antarctic scientific SHIELD outpost run by ANZACs. Turns out they’re my kind of people. It was awesome, like having little Clint clones running about everywhere. Biologist Clint. Environmentalist Clint. Zoologist Clint. Chef Clint. Man we got into trouble. I’m still not allowed to talk about it because apparently Phil had to jump in and pull us out of the administrative firing line a few times and he’s holding a grudge, plus there was that incident with the mini reactor and the albatross but what’s new, right?”

“Great.” Tony drawled, not bothering to look up. “Just another reason for me to stay on this side of the equator.”

Natasha’s voice hissed through the speaker. “Chilly bin and L&P and he was smiling through both questions. Please tell me they have some significant meaning.”

“Kiwi. Which means Maori. Excellent. Nothing worse than people faking cultural markings and these ones look pretty significant.” Clint said. He began the security routine to open the cell. When Clint went through the inner doors Tony lost sight of the archer and considering he couldn’t be bothered getting up he bumped up the volume on the audio feed enough to hear both spies and their interrogation subject. Interrogators and… interrogee? Yep, he was pretty sure that was a word.

_“Hey buddy, looks like its my turn to have some fun. You keen?”_ Clint asked.

The Maori’s voice came across the feed, deep and musical and oddly pleased. “ _Keen as, bro, dead set_.”

There was a moment of unnatural silence that made Tony pause in his tinkering and look up in time to hear the sound of Freddie’s rumbling laughter. Tony dropped his tablet to the side and stood, watching through the glass as Freddie beamed that megawatt smile at a stunned Clint who just blinked in response, his jaw opening and closing ineffectually.

“Oh my God. Holy shit. Fucking _jackpot_ …” Clint’s voice was frantic and Tony caught Natasha’s hasty murmurs into her comm unit as she looked from one man to the other, but not enough to decipher individual words. A silent alarm started flashing out on his phone, calling the Avengers together on a lower-than-world-ending-but-still-rather-important-B-grade priority. A soul match.

“Holy shit,” Clint breathed again. “Just… we need to call Phil!”

Tony was right.

Freddie was _definitely_ a crackpot.

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

Steve emerged from the bathroom to discover Bucky leaning against the counter of the suite’s tiny kitchenette and reading his phone. When he noticed Steve he looked up and strands of his long hair fell across his forehead and his beautiful lips twisted into a tiny smirk and Steve lost the ability to breathe for a moment. This was _real_.

“Hey punk. I’ve got to make a call. You okay to join me?”

Steve wandered over to Bucky’s side to look down at the phone. “Sure, pal. Who are we calling?”

“Couple’a friends.”

A little timer rotated around on the screen as they waited for the call to connect and then suddenly a blurry mostly-blue image flashed up. After a brief moment of confusion, Steve realised he was looking at the upper portion of a sweat-stained navy wife-beater beneath a spattering of silver chest hairs that covered brown, leathery skin.

“G’day Jimmy! That you? I can’t see shit,” boomed a voice. The image on the screen tilted somewhat to show the underside of a grizzled chin and the voice yelled out again. “Toff! Toffa, the kids are callin’! You seen my glasses? Flaming things, never where I put ‘em.”

Next to him Bucky rolled his eyes and a grin the likes of which Steve hadn’t seen since before the war crept over his face. Steve lifted an eyebrow in question and Bucky just shrugged in reply. So this was normal, then.

The phone image blurred and the audio was muffled but Steve’s enhanced hearing could make out a new masculine voice speaking.

“They’re next to your newspaper. Tommo, babe, remember the camera’s at the other end. Turn it round, eh?”

“Fark.”

There was some more shuffling and finally picture on the screen resolved enough for Steve to make out the faces of two middle aged men, one bristled and scowling as he adjusted his wire-framed glasses and the other beaming happily and wiping his hands on a dish cloth.

Bucky cleared his throat. Was he nervous about something?

“Tommo, Toffa, uh… this is Steve. Steve, meet Captain Curtis Thompson and Unit Commander Christopher Tremblay, Canadian Special Forces.”

Steve inclined his head. So this was Bucky and Freddie’s Captain. Interesting. He looked… very civilian. Very grumpy “about to give a lecture on why the streets should be salted more regularly”, “I’ll chase you down the steps of congress to yell at you and poke you in the sternum” civilian. He didn’t know why Canadian Special Forces would be there though, that was new information. He couldn’t shake the unexpected feeling like he was a skinny recruit back at Camp Lehigh and about to be inspected by the Colonel so he decided to use his best Captain America publicity voice. “Captain. Commander. Pleasure to meet you both.”

Tremblay tutted. “Now, Jimmy, you know I’m retired. I’m just a fisherman. Nice to meet you, Steve. Our Jimmy’s been worried sick about you.”

“Sure. Retired,” Bucky snickered.

Information clicked together in Steve’s mind. “You were the contact who told Bucky about Sokovia.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that, Captain Rogers,”

“And you’re not going to be saying shit all about it to no one, either, you get me?” growled Captain Thompson. He ripped off his glasses and glared into the camera. “I don’t care how spangled your suits are, you hurt one of my boys I’m coming for you,”

“Um… Yes, sir.” Steve managed to say. He suddenly felt unsure about his previous assumption that Thompson was all civilian. And more confident in the man’s ability to safely house a recovering assassin and a giant Maori who played with guns.

“And speaking of my boys, where’s Freddie? He’s a real spanner at times, Jim, you keeping an eye on him?”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky nodded. “The implant’s working well and I can hear him. He’s doing fine. Making friends. I’ll get him out of there tonight, I promise.”

“Onya Jimmy, good lad. Now, about this message we got.” Thompson’s face shifted and even Tremblay looked uneasy. “We need you to clear out just as soon as you can. Not to Europe, shit’s getting real complicated. Best you come home for now.”

“Sir?”

It was Tremblay who answered. “I’m hearing some noise from the European political camps that’s unsettling and it’s coming from the very top. We know you're an independent man now and all, Jimmy, but we’d just feel better if we knew you were somewhere safe. You’re very welcome to join us, Steve, we have plenty of room.” The Canadian extended the invitation as though he was offering his guest room for the holidays instead of a bolt hole for an escaping political target.

“Thank you, Commander, sir, but if there is a problem in Europe I should be there to help.”

Tremblay nodded as though he expected the answer. “Sure. Just remember the option’s there, eh? You’re family now,” They all ignored Thompson’s indignant snort at the claim. Obviously Steve would need to work hard to impress that man because being Captain America was apparently not enough.

Steve was mostly quiet while the men said their goodbyes and wrestled an assurance from Bucky that yes, he would be bringing Freddie home and yes, he would be careful, and yes, he would call as soon as he could, then logged off the phone.

A Maori, an American and a Canadian walk onto an Australian’s boat. It sounded like the start of a joke but for the life of him Steve couldn’t see any evidence they were teasing. Bucky’s easy smile, the Captain’s reluctant acceptance of him as Bucky’s mate, Tremblay’s genuine happiness at their reunion, the striking familial bonds between them all were too pure to be faked. Freddie had put himself at the complete mercy of the Avengers just to give Bucky an hour alone with him, for crissakes.

For a moment, just a moment, Steve let himself imagine hanging up the shield and going with them, finding acceptance and family amongst the outcasts, fishing on the Australian coastline and tasting the sea salt on Bucky’s skin. Then he frowned.

“Bucky… did I just meet your parents?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clint's questions were to determine if Freddie was from Australia or New Zealand:
> 
> "Esky or chilly bin?"  
> Colloquial names for 'drinks cooler', with Esky being Australian and chilly bin being New Zealand
> 
> "Milo or L&P?"  
> Milo is one of Australia's favourite drinks, while L&P is a kiwi treasure.


	14. ((REDACTED TIME)) ((REDACTED LOCATION))

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This summary has been redacted in the name of National Security, as ordered by General Thaddeus Ross of the United States Government.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **runs in**  
> **drops chapter**  
> **flees**

 

* * *

 

 

 

Standing behind the guard with one hand covering his mouth and nose, Darcy pushed the scalpel several inches into the base of his skull with her other, then withdrew it and gently lowered the now lifeless body to the floor. She couldn’t afford to make a sound, couldn’t risk being recaptured a third time. The first two times she tried to escape Zola’s underground lab she met with failure and the evil bastard made her suffer for it and then when she was strapped back on that fucking table screaming until her throat filled with her own blood she decided she’d had enough. With this attempt she either made it out of this HYDRA shit hole or she would die trying.

She wiped brains and blood from the scalpel onto the guard’s shirt, then hid it beneath the waistband of what she optimistically labelled her ‘clothing’. After Zola’s latest batch of experiments she was now down to a ripped singlet that was more stiff brown and red rags than regulation white cotton and a pair of men’s undershorts that were plastered against her thighs with rapidly drying blood. At least some of that wasn’t hers this time. Well, on the left thigh anyway. The right thigh was totally all her blood from that bullet she knew was still in there and she was already resigned to the fact that it was going to hurt like a bitch every time she moved until she could get free and find someone to help her remove it. She peeled the dead guard’s belt from his waist and made the world’s crappiest tourniquet high on her right leg, then contemplated stripping the guard for his shirt, jacket and pants before deciding the warmth they could offer would be outweighed by the speed of her escape if she kept going. It wasn’t like she would be cold anyway, not even here in the Austrian alps. With Zola’s poisons scorching through her veins, Darcy hadn’t felt the cold in months, not even when Zola tried to drown her in ice water brought fresh from the lake. She did steal the dead man’s boots though. And the combat knife strapped to his ankle. And his watch. Because fuck you, Nazi arseholes, that’s why.

With her shiny new knife held tight in her fist, Darcy was just sneaking-slash-limping around the corner towards the next guard when all the hairs on the back of her neck stood up and a surge of electricity whizzed through the air with an ear splitting _crack_. The guard spun round and spotted her and lifted his arm to aim his gun but just as he called out the electricity flashed again and a circle of blinding blue-white light materialised out of nothing between them. The stupid Nazi guard might not have seen anything like it before but Darcy had and she bolted towards it as fast as her injured leg could carry her. The guard ran to intercept her. Their two bodies collided with a thud just as the energy expanded and burst out to encompass the entire universe and it was with a last, silent prayer to Frigga that Darcy fell.

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

“ _Halt! Oder sie stirbt_ _!”_

Darcy’s body came back online in stages. Her hearing was first, which was unsurprising considering the frantic German being shouted near her face. She could also hear a vibrant mechanical hum as though she was lying next to a photocopier, and a static snap of energy crackling and buzzing like a stuttering fluorescent light. Next was her sense of smell, which was unfortunate because it came with the overriding and familiar smell of blood, both fresh and old. And man sweat. And her own sweat. And oil. It was like a gross oil/sweat/blood fusion up in her olfactory system and not even the odd wisps of something sweet and bakery related floating in the air could overcome it. Touch came when she tensed her muscles and registered the hand around her throat pushing her back into the floor and what was most likely the tip of her own recently stolen knife being pressed into her breastbone. The twist of her torso confirmed the presence of the scalpel still concealed in her waistband though so it wasn’t all bad, even if the hard floor was murder on her spine.

“Easy. Easy there buddy. Let’s not do anything rash, shall we?”

The man’s wary tone was familiar but no name jumped into Darcy’s mind and she was too busy trying not to pass out with blood loss or panic at being caught again to really think about it. It sounded like he was at least several yards away, too far to be of use if this stupid goon really meant business. She knew that Zola would kill the guard if he killed _her_ because Zola was not done playing with her yet but HYDRA goons weren’t known for their intellect. Still feigning unconsciousness, Darcy let her fingers inch closer to her hip and the waistband of her shorts, seeking the cold metal of her hidden weapon.

“Seriously, guy, you do not want to do that. You are way out of your league here. Let the woman go.”

 _Yeah, guy,_ giggled Darcy’s possibly shock-affected internal voice. _Do what the nice man says and leave the poor little woman alone._

Alas, it was not to be. HYDRA once again proved that mental prowess was not a requirement in their Generic Nazi Goon application package by tightening his grip on her throat. Time slowed down as he inhaled a deep breath and the shift of his muscles told her that he’d brought back the hand that held the knife, ready to plunge it down into her heart, but Darcy had already predicted what the entirely predictable asshole was going to do. Just as his arm began its downswing, Darcy thrust her now most favourite weaponised scalpel up beneath the guard’s chin, through the soft palate of the roof of his mouth and upwards into his brain and _twisted_. A rain of blood burst above her, showering her chest, neck and face in the most revolting victory splash ever and she choked on the taste of hot viscera as she was squashed beneath the weight of the bleeding corpse on top of her.

“Lily! Lily!” called the voice, coming closer with every heartbeat.

Her helper dragged the body from her and Darcy gasped in deep breaths to stop herself from puking out the body fluids she’d accidentally swallowed. She tried to open her eyes but they were sticky with blood and her vision was tinted crimson. All she could see was a man’s shape, familiar in a comforting way just like his voice had been. Even as she blinked though the room grew darker and she knew she was just moments away from unconsciousness.

“Please don’t die, please, please don’t die, not now, not after everything,” the man chanted, using shaking hands to wipe the blood from her face.

“Howie?” she croaked.

The man let out a strangled, slightly manic laugh.

“I’ve always hated being compared to my old man, you know that? But today, today I’ll take it.”

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

It was the pain that woke her. It was always the pain that woke her. She fought consciousness, instinctively seeking that place of empty oblivion rather than rouse to the devil. Her body shook, the blood loss probably, and bands tightened around her torso.

A voice next to her ear barked an order. There would be more pain if she refused to comply, this was a truth her body knew even without her brain active to tell her it was so.

“Ever… green… never…”

Her lips were fat and leaden and her voice cracked as her words pushed past. The air was thick, hot dust drifted across her face and neck, and her nostrils burned with acrid smoke. If it was the fires of hell, she welcomed them.

“ - _isten to me!_ You will not die like th- ,”

 “…never… never white…”

“ -od damn it, Lily! Don’t- ,”

 

 ^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

The side of her head jolted against something hard and a groan escaped her before she thought to silence herself. Her body was upright now, cradled in a soft chair with a strap that ran diagonal across her torso, but her head was loose and kept knocking against the surface next to her with bumps that shook her entire person. The air was clearer here, less smoke, but the taste of it lingered in her mouth.

“-ld on, Cookie, you can do it. You can make it, not much further, I pro-,”

It was that voice again, the one who called her away from the emptiness. It kept on in a ceaseless circle of pleading, threatening and complaining and it soothed her in a way she couldn’t describe. She drifted in that grey place between agony and death that she knew so well and let it wash over her.

“-actly the way I planned your homecoming. There were pop tarts and everyth-,”

She bounced limp against the motion of the seat beneath her, unable to stop her forehead cracking into the hard surface again and her companion swore.

“-ome on! What good is being a super soldier if you can’t eve-,”

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

Her leg itched.

It felt… strange.

It… didn’t hurt? How long had it been that her body had felt something other than agony?

The lack of pain made her believe her prayers had been answered, that she had been allowed to die and this was Valhalla.

The piercing stabs to her ears caused by the steadily increasing volume of beeping machines made her revise the idea.

Nobody asked for her name or her number, so she went back to sleep, chasing the darkness of her mind.

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

Warmth caressed her cheek, gentle and exquisite. She turned her face towards it, a rush of memories giving the sensation its name.

 _Sunlight_.

"When I got out of that god forsaken cave in Afghanistan, it was seeing the sun that really brought it home that I'd escaped. Since then, the sun has meant freedom to me."

Darcy opened her eyes. She was propped up in a large bed by what felt like a thousand pillows and covered to the waist with an old fashioned floral-printed duvet. Her torn and bloodied clothing had been replaced with a large clean t-shirt that she recognised as once belonging to Thor and a line of tape criss crossed at various vein points on her forearms. If they were from regular IVs, Darcy knew that the punctures in the skin beneath would already be healed.

In a puffy armchair strategically placed next to the bed to be close by but not blocking the sunlight streaming from the lace-framed window sat a haggard Tony Stark. He looked at least fifteen years older than when she'd last seen him, the laugh lines around his eyes now deepened to true wrinkles and the colour of his eyes watery instead of holding that joy filled vivacity she remembered. Even his clothing looked haggard, a creased white dress shirt over slacks that had softened with wear.

"Jane," she croaked. Damn, her throat felt like sandpaper.

The line of Tony's mouth thinned. He twisted the cap off a water bottle and passed it to her and waited for her to drink before replying to her question.

"Unavailable. In fact, probably everyone you would prefer to be sitting here instead of me is unavailable. Sorry, kid."

He motioned to the table next to her bed where a fat envelope had been placed. _Darcy Lillian Lewis Evergreen_ was written across the front in an angry slash of black ink. It was what Darcy knew as Jane's "agitated" script, the terrible handwriting that happened when she was so infused with emotion it wasn't even legible to people who weren't either Jane or Darcy. A rush of fear flooded her. Where was Jane?

"Is she alright?"

"Fine. Safe with Thor. Furious." Tony shrugged. He rose slowly from his chair, wincing at the pull of sore muscles, then tried to smooth some of the creases from his shirt. "She wanted to be the one to welcome you home and fill you in on what you missed but... well. Best laid plans and all."

Tony picked up the envelope and placed it gently on the bed next to Darcy's leg.

"Read this. Then we'll talk."

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeep?


	15. 2017 - Geneva

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I heard you guys had questions? Prepare for an epic mega-chapter that should answer pretty much all of them!
> 
> And also feelings. Cos that's how we roll in the Peaches-verse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweethearts! My darling beauties! Did you really think I would leave you hanging for too long?  
> Prepare yourselves for Darcy, Jane and Tony feels!
> 
> All my love, you gorgeous people. If I don't post again beforehand, please have a happy Christmas if you celebrate it, or a nice relaxing break if you do not.  
> -Rubie

 

* * *

 

 

 

~~Dear Darcy.~~

~~If you are reading this, then Tony managed to work the Frankenmachine without me even though he’s an asshole hack who sides with Thor instead of me. I’m gone, obviously, because if I wasn’t gone then I would be talking to you instead of writing this stupid fucking letter~~

 

~~Dear Darcy~~

~~So there’s no guidebook on ‘ **what to do when your best friend vanishes then becomes a fucking national icon and wins a war and you alien boyfriend forces you to leave the planet so you don’t get disappeared by an evil government** ’ but I’m pretty sure if there was such a book it would just be full of margarita recipes and coupons for Ben & Jerrys because this FUCKING SUCKS I HATE EVERYTHING SO FUCKING BAD I SPENT FIVE YEARS OF MY LIFE ON THIS AND NOW SOME FASCIST ASSHOLE GOVERNMENT FUCK~~

 

~~Dear Darcy~~

~~You missed five years of _Cheaters_ and watching that alone was really damned depressing and I don’t know if I can forgive you for that~~

 

~~Dear Darcy~~

~~I wish you were here to moderate my alcohol intake because there have been so many bad decisions made in the last four hours but most of all I really miss you and I just wanted to be here when you came back and I can’t be. Thor is taking me to Asgard so I can be safe. I don’t want to go but I have to. They’re after me, Darcy. Me and everyone even slightly different or clever or special. Our own government. Soon they’re going to be burning books and murdering journalists and locking women indoors and hiring out their uteruses to make tiny baby fascists~~

~~Dear Darcy~~

~~I deleted your browser history when you disappeared. That’s how much I care. All I ask in return is that you destroy all the things that I keep in that place that I told you about that time when we were really drunk in New Mexico because if my mother or Tony or Thor ever find out I was ever into that, I swear to Frigga I will DIE~~

~~Dear Darcy~~

~~I wish I went with you. I wish I never let you stand up to those thugs on your own. I wish I never let you leave me behind. I miss you so fucking much. It hurts, Darcy. Why couldn’t I go with you? Why did you leave~~

~~Dear Darcy~~

~~How did you survive the 1930s without being burned as a witch? I KNOW YOU. I know your MOUTH. Seriously, did you tape it shut for half a decade? How~~

~~Dear Darcy~~

~~Please make all the super cute babies with your super cute super heroes. I need you to do this for me. Name at least six of them Jane.~~

~~Dear Darcy~~

~~Why did Peggy Carter say she and you were best friends? I thought I was your best friend. PEGGY CARTER, Darcy. How the hell am I meant to compete with PEGGY CARTER? She literally killed Nazis by glaring them to death with her super stare. That was an actual facts thing that happened, I read about it when I was researching you.~~

Dear Darcy

Welcome home! It’s 2017 and you were gone five years- Congrats on saving the Free World from the Nazis! Also, you’re welcome! It’s 2017 and I spent those five years breaking the Laws of Science to get you back! Yay! I’m writing this letter to fill you in on some of the things you missed in that time but I’m probably going to forget stuff because I only have an hour to write this. I did have more time like six hours ago but then there was tequila and mistakes. So I’m really sorry for that but I know you’ll forgive me because you’re literally the best friend ever. Ever. And I’m not jealous of Peggy Carter. I mean, why would I be jealous of Peggy Carter? That’s ridiculous. I won a fucking Nobel Prize for Frigga’s sake. Did Peggy Carter win a Nobel Prize? No. No she fucking didn’t. I did.

 

  * I’ve wasted too much time being drunk and jealous of Peggy Carter so I have to do this in dot points now
  * I love you
  * No really, I do. And Peggy was right – I am so proud of you. I wish I could be there with you
  * You remember Halloween that one year when you dressed up as Lily Evergreen but refused to sing her songs because you thought her voice was way better than yours? That is so much funnier now.
  * Howard Stark tried five times to legally adopt you as a Stark even though you were dead. In 1987 you officially became related to Tony Stark. Congratulations, you have a little brother. Kind of.
  * A lot of this information is going to hurt and I’m so sorry for that. I don’t know how to make it not hurt. Also, I’m seriously angry, upset and drunk as fuck so I can’t even word properly. I wish I could tell you these things in a way that wouldn’t hurt but that’s just impossible. I know how much you value honesty though so I’m going to try to be as straightforward as I can. Just know that my heart breaks for you and your mates. I love you and I care for them because of you and none of you deserve what happened to you.



 

Okay let’s get into the trauma. Here goes.

 

  * ‘Darcy Lewis’ was declared dead in 2012 after the lab accident. ‘Lily Evergreen’ of course, died in WW2. Both your identities are legally dead and you’re going to face some hella paperwork. It might be easier to just resurrect one of you. Tony will be able to help.
  * When Lily Evergreen ‘died’ your will left everything to your soulmates and then to your soulmates’ family, the Barnes’s. This means that ultimately Rebecca Barnes inherited your money and rights to your music. You made her super rich. She had a soulmate named Sally-Anne Proctor and together they adopted three children- Jamie, Grant and Howard. Your money meant they lived comfortably and went to good schools and colleges. They have all been involved in pro-LGBTQI and feminist movements and are vocal supporters of many things you would approve of.
  * Charles Vernon died in the 60s during an airplane stunt gone wrong when he tried to do too many barrel rolls through live fire. I’m sorry. In his eulogy, Martin McNamara said it was the way Vern would have wanted to go (which tbh kind of confused everyone a little bit???) but maybe you’ll understand what he meant.
  * Peggy Carter died last year. I’m so sorry. She went peacefully in her sleep with her family nearby. Also, her niece totally kissed Steve.
  * Martin McNamara is still alive. He’s ninety seven now though, so… yeah. He named his two daughters after you and Peggy. Lillian is a neurologist (HA! SUCK IT SOFT SCIENCES!) and Margaret is in the Air Force. Lillian McNamara is a prominent member of several feminist action groups. What is it with you inspiring feminists?
  * In 1945 James Barnes was lost after a train accident in Austria. He was presumed dead. I think you knew this already from high school history.
  * In 1945 Steve Rogers was lost after falling with a plane over the arctic ocean. He was also presumed dead. I definitely think you knew this already.
  * Neither of these people are dead.
  * Your soulmates are alive.
  * Just to be clear – Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes and Captain Steven Grant Rogers ARE ALIVE. Its 2017 and ALL THREE OF YOU ARE ALIVE.
  * Put this letter down. Go and cry and then come back.



 

Let’s talk about what happened. It’s a huge damn mess because TIME TRAVEL AND SUPERHEROES AND EVIL NAZI DEATH CULTS but I’ll try to be as clear as I can. Quickly. While drunk. Fuck, I hope you get at least something out of this.

 

  * The serum Erskine administered Steve in 1943 meant that he survived the plane crash into the arctic and was frozen in stasis for nearly seventy years. Then in 2012 he was found and thawed out. Since just after you left, Steve has been leading the super hero team known as the Avengers as Captain America and saving the world multiple times. You missed seeing him by about a week. I’m not even kidding.



 

  * When Tony met you and I in 2012, he thought it was some freaky coincidence that you looked so much like his dead nearly-sister Lily Evergreen. Then you went through that portal and he got suspicious. He started doing research on his own in secret and came up with the theory that you had gone back in time not space and really were Lily Evergreen AND Darcy Lewis. That friend stealing bastard didn’t tell me until 2015 though cos he’s a jerk face. He did, kindly, pay nearly a billion dollars for me to keep experimenting on how to get you back though, so that was nice of him. Between Tony’s money, my genius, an Asgardian magic crystal we borrowed from Odin and a soul stone infused android human hybrid (not joking), we managed to figure out how to get you back. It just took five years. Coincidentally (or not) you first met Howard Stark in 1938 and disappeared from history in 1943, which is also five years, which should surprise me but it really fucking doesn’t.



 

  * In 2014, Steve found Sergeant Barnes. That is a huge fucked up story and I’m so sorry hon, I truly _truly_ am. Your mate has suffered far more than any human should ever suffer. How he even survived I don’t know but he did. Barnes IS alive. When you rescued him from the HYDRA facility in 1943, Zola had already administered a knock-off version of Erskine’s serum. It allowed Barnes to survive the fall from the train and afterwards he was captured by Russians and then handed over to HYDRA. I’m so sorry. He was tortured and brainwashed and he was sporadically cryogenically frozen and unfrozen on and off for seventy years. Biologically, he appears to be in his mid-thirties but it’s unclear because of the effects of the serum.



 

Take a breath. Take your time. I’m so sorry but its going to get worse before it gets better.

 

  * When HYDRA had Barnes, they programmed him to become an assassin called The Winter Soldier and forced him to do a lot of awful things. One of these things was killing JFK. Another one, unfortunately, was killing Howard and Maria Stark. The Winter Soldier assassinated them in 1991 and made it look like a car accident. I’m so sorry. I know you were close to Howard and he never stopped loving you like family. He was a terrible dad to Tony but he was good to your memory and your estate and he didn’t deserve to be killed like he was.



 

  * Tony found out that Barnes killed his parents. He also found out that _Steve_ _knew_ that Barnes killed the Starks and hadn’t told Tony. I don’t need to tell you that it caused a rift between Tony and Steve.



 

  * About this time, GOVERNMENT ASSHAT IGNORANT JERK FACE FASCIST DICKBAGS decided to turn America into a dystopian country of fail. Led by General Thaddeus FUCKWIT Ross, they conspired with the UN and came up with something called the Sokovia Accords, which basically labelled anyone slightly different from Regular B Grade Cookie-Cutter Humans as ‘other’ and made it legal to treat them as second class citizens. This includes those born with genetic differences, like mutants or similar, or those with special abilities like any of the Avengers, or even just regular SMART PEOPLE like myself who suddenly became threats to the regime if we refused to cooperate with their agenda. We were put on A LIST and are fucking stalked and monitored and hassled and its BULLSHIT and that’s why I have to leave. Thor is taking me with him to Asgard because even though Asgard is going through its own stuff right now it’s still safer for me than Earth. I don’t want to go. I REALLY don’t want to go without you. But I’ve put it off as long as I can and now it’s increasingly looking like I’m about to be captured BY MY OWN FUCKING GOVERNMENT so its off-world with this girl. Thor promised to bring me back when it’s safe and I trust him so I know I’ll see you again. According to Peggy and Steve you didn’t forget me the whole time you were in the past, so I have faith you won’t forget me now. I won’t forget you.



 

  * Tony has massive PTSD and guilt issues and hates himself and basically gave up on everything when _Pepper left him_ (I KNOW RIGHT??) even though he’s saved so many lives and is a blob-damned hero. He agreed to go along with the government and General Ross and the Sokovia Accords and became the government’s poster boy for obeying them. I tried to talk him out of it, I swear to Frigga I really did, Darcy, because I KNOW A FUCKING REGIME WHEN I SEE ONE but he genuinely believed the government had the people’s best interest at heart.



 

  * Steve did _not_ agree with the Sokovia Accords or the way the government began attacking its own citizens. I’m sure this is a great surprise to you.



 

  * There was a bombing at the UN and a lot of really important people were killed including the King of Wakanda. The media and the government said that Barnes was responsible. Steve took Barnes’s side and somehow managed to find him and get him into hiding before anyone else could capture/kill him. Later it was revealed that Barnes was set up and another guy had actually committed the bombing deliberately to frame him but it was already too late for Steve and Tony. It was the last straw for their friendship.



 

  * The Avengers have split up. Some refused to sign the Accords because that would basically turn them into super-powered government controlled thugs, and went into hiding with Steve and Barnes. I don’t know where they are. Nobody does, which I suppose is the point of hiding. I’m sorry, Darcy.



 

  * The only people you can truly trust right now are Tony, Natasha Romanoff aka the Black Widow (kind of, I mean she’s always got secrets on the side but basically she’s alright?), Clint Barton aka Hawkeye aka Agent Hot-Arms from New Mexico (even though he’s apparently retired with his soulmates and really likes fishing??), Sam Wilson (who you haven’t met but is actually super nice) and your soulmates (if they ever turn up). DO NOT TRUST THADDEUS ROSS. DO NOT TRUST **ANY** GOVERNMENT FUCKS THEY CAN GO EAT BILGESNIPE DICKS. Don’t trust Rhodey either, because even though he’s a great guy he’s still a G-Man stooge.



 

  * Tony is not well. I know I mentioned it earlier but I’m really worried about him. I tease him a lot but as well as Thor, Tony has really been my rock these past five years. He’s my friend. And you know I don’t do friends well, so it means a lot to call him that. And he’s gone through so much shit lately. Bruce abandoned him. Steve lied to him then disappeared. Pepper left him. Rhodey got injured, the team broke up, I have to flee the planet, there are fucking human rights breaches happening every time we turn around and Tony blames himself for it all. He’s just a big ball of guilt and alcoholism. Please look after him. He’s Howard’s son so I know you will anyway but please try extra hard for me. I just want him to be happy.



 

In summary:

Your soulmates are alive but fugitives on the run from everyone. The world is basically fucked right now and I’m being taken to Asgard because Earth sucks balls. Governments all over are agreeing with our STUPID one, people are bigoted assholes, the heroes are fighting with themselves. Our friends are suffering. They need you, Darcy.

 

I love you. I loved you when you were an eighteen year old poli-sci intern who was totally out of her depth but kind enough to keep me alive and sane in the desert. I loved you when you were my only friend, when you held it together when I fell apart. I loved you when you saved my life from aliens and thugs (all the times). I loved you when you accepted my weird-ass alien prince boyfriend soulmate when no one else did. I loved you when you followed me and my crazy science from country to country to country even though it was freezing cold most of the time and you hate the cold. I loved you when you always stood up for the little guy, or in my case, girl.

 

I loved you when I learned you were famous. I loved you when I read all those awful starlet news articles about you that made you look like a bimbo. I loved you when I learned you risked your life for Steve and gave it away for Barnes because I know you and I know that’s what you do for your people.

 

You are a part of me, Darcy Lillian Lewis Evergreen Stark and you always will be. Time couldn’t keep us apart. Space can’t either. I will come back for you. I promise.

 

To the stars _and back_ , shield sister

 

Jane Foster

 

 

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

Darcy read the letter three times. The last time she deliberately hunted for the special Jane-Darcy code words that meant Jane wrote under duress, but found nothing.

She let the letter fall to her lap and concentrated on watching the fading sunlight creep across the pages.

This…

This was…

Fuck.

If it had been anyone other than Jane who told her, she wouldn’t believe a word. Of course Jane would have known that, which is why she wrote the letter.

Goddamn.

Darcy heard Tony’s footsteps approaching before he knocked his knuckles on the doorframe. She looked up to see him holding a tray with two bowls of something steaming and smelling suspiciously like mushroom risotto. She wondered if Jane had given Tony instructions on her favourite foods. It seemed like something Jane would have done. She picked up all the pages of Jane’s letter and put them on the bedside table.

“Hey,” Tony began. He didn’t move into the room. “So, uh… I don’t have a lot of experience in, um… you know, _all this_ …”

He wasn’t looking at her, instead staring out the window. Or perhaps admiring their tacky lace curtains. They were hypnotically ugly, to be fair.

“Is that mushroom risotto?” she asked, pointing to the tray in his hands.

“What? Oh, yeah.”

“I haven’t eaten a good meal since early 1943 and even then it was probably something boiled. Get your butt over here.”

Shuffling over to make room on the pillow mountain behind her, Darcy rearranged her blankets and sat up properly. The movement pulled on her leg and she hissed in pain.

“Yeah… that’d be your bullet wound. I got the slug out but it’s still going to hurt for a while. Not too long though, what with your super healing. Lucky that.”

Tony still hadn’t moved. Darcy rolled her eyes and held out grabby hands for her food until he came closer. The world was fucked, her soulmates were unexpectedly both alive and criminals, _she_ was unexpectedly alive and possibly a criminal and Jane wasn’t even on the same planet as her anymore. She wanted that damned risotto.

“Trust me, having a heightened ability to heal when you’re strapped to a psychopath’s torture table for weeks doesn’t really feel like luck.”

Tony froze two steps inside the doorway, his grey face turning even paler. “I’m… I’m so-,”

“Shut up, get on the bed and give me my risotto.”

She hadn’t really meant to snap at him considering literally none of this was Tony’s fault and she in fact owed him her life, but the orders were effective anyway. Her new best friend, and little/big brother apparently, carefully climbed up to sit next to her on the flowery mauve bedspread. When he held himself stiffly away from making physical contact with her, Darcy snorted and elbowed him in the ribs and he relaxed. A little. About a third of the way through her bowl of risotto Darcy started slipping further down the bed until she was a melted puddle against his side, still shovelling carnaroli grains into her face.

“This is fucking amazing. This is like, the best food I’ve ever eaten in my life. I don’t think you even understand, Tony, how good this is.”

His torso vibrated in a quiet chuckle. “My mom taught me how to make it when I was a kid but I don’t cook much. Too rich.”

“Well now I know you can do it, don’t expect me to forget. This is orgasmic.”

Twenty minutes later both bowls were empty and returned to the tray at the end of the bed and Darcy slumped into a ball of _happy tummy_ with her head on Tony’s lap while he was still upright against the pillows. The man who up until yesterday she had known for two weeks as the rich guy who paid for things and teased her about her boob size and who was now the saviour who committed half a decade and a billion dollars to her rescue and also _her brother_.

“You know that thing where you sacrifice your body, mind and soul for the world and it ends up meaning absolutely fucking nothing?”

Tony snorted. “Yep.”

“Cool. Not just me then.”

“Nope.”

A warm hand smoothed hair away from her forehead and she hummed happily. How long had it been since she’d been touched with gentleness? With kindness?

“So this,” Darcy waved a lazy hand towards Jane’s letter on the bedside table. “This is going to take me a while to unpack and I’m compartmentalising like you wouldn’t believe. How was your week?”

She gave herself a gold star when Tony actually laughed. It was kind of self-deprecating but it was still a laugh and she counted it as a win.

“Oh you know, secretly defying the universe and successfully manipulating matter through time and then blowing an entire warehouse into the sky to stop my government from discovering I’ve been lying about my work and arresting me. Then I found out my adopted sister was not chilling on an island in 1943 like my dad said she would be and was in fact, being horrifically tortured by Nazis and nearly died a few times on the Swiss motorway before I managed to stabilise her while driving a hundred miles an hour to the Geneva’s most outdated safehouse. So you know, could be worse.”

Darcy smiled at his less than standard quality attempt at snark. Until seeing him as broken and worn-down as she did earlier, Darcy hadn’t been aware she would miss Tony Stark’s special brand of sarcasm.

“You really blew up the warehouse? Was that the fire?”

“Yep,” he replied, popping the P. His hand smoothed her hair again. “Its too dangerous to let anyone know what Jane and I discovered about time travel, even if we couldn’t replicate it without help from Asgard. According to Ross, I’ve been researching cryostasis and hunting for the HYDRA bunker where you’ve been stored since Zola froze you in world war two.”

“So no one knows I’m Darcy Lewis?”

“Just me, Jane, Thor, Bruce, Romanoff and Barton. Oh, and _Rogers_.”

“Oh.”

Darcy wasn’t sure how she felt about that. One the one hand she identified strongly with Lily Evergreen, the persona she forged for herself and the one she wielded sometimes like a rapier and sometimes like a battering ram. On the other hand, however, she _was_ Darcy Lewis.

“I guess I won’t mention time travel in my autobiography then. Or like, anything remotely truthful about my real self.”

Tony jostled his thigh. “Bad luck, kid, you’re stuck being plain old Lily Evergreen.”

“Lily Evergreen Stark,” Darcy corrected.

“Huh. Yeah.”

There was an awkward silence, not the first of the day but definitely the first _she’d_ caused and Darcy didn’t like it. Perhaps Tony wasn’t okay with her being his sister. Jane’s letter said Howard tried all the way until the late eighties to adopt her, so maybe Tony was resentful of her stealing his dad’s attention? She wouldn’t blame him.

“So, Switzerland hey? Know where we can pick up some good Knödel?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 


	16. 2017 - A hideous safehouse in Geneva

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Darcy talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to 2018 my beautiful people! May it bless you as much as you bless me with your continued support and love.
> 
> Please accept this chapter as a token of my ongoing affection. 
> 
> Shine on, you crazy diamonds.  
> -Rubie

 

* * *

 

 

 

The thing that most convinced Darcy that she had in fact arrived in the year 2017 was not the disconcerting situation where she was literally five years behind in her previously encyclopaedic awareness of cultural memes but the dramatically altered behaviour of her new brother and head nurse – one Anthony Edward Stark. When Darcy first met Howard Stark - _in 1938!_ \- the first thoughts she had were of how similar his demeanour was to his son Tony, the billionaire she’d just spent an almost continual two weeks with - _in 2012_. They were both unrepentant flirts, could be charming and attentive but also blunt and sometimes thoughtless with their words as their brilliant minds flew at a rate far faster than any sense of decorum could hope to keep up with. They were constant cyclones of activity, either creative activity that could be harnessed into something manic yet productive, or chaotic activity that could only hope to be minimised before it did too much damage to liquor cabinets, public establishments and the local infrastructure. Both Howard and Tony lived and breathed in that dizzying vortex of genius and money and power that turned them into something wild and invulnerable, flames that burned so hot they were untouchable. Exciting, thrilling, dangerous. Compelling. And liable to burn everyone around them whether they intended it or not.

Darcy had seen the loneliness in Howard, had walked next to him when he seared his way through a fresh scandal or broken relationship or betrayal. Sometimes Howard had been at fault. He wasn’t perfect, far from it. But often he himself had been caught up in the inferno, the victim of opportunists or schemers or falsehoods, and she could see how it wore him down. The constant loyalty of Edwin Jarvis was fundamental to the stability of Howard’s mental health and as much as she’d been able to, Darcy liked to think she helped as well, providing a safe place for a conflicted Howard to break when he needed to. Only she hadn’t come back after the war, had she? Neither she, nor Steve, nor Bucky, all three friends of Howard Stark who promised him they would return and never did. And Howard was left to weather the storm of those losses without her, just more heartbreak in the long line of trauma he suffered through alone. And as American history so famously documented, instead of turning towards his wife or his son, Howard grew hard. Cold. And it broke her heart.

Now here Darcy was returned to her own time –pretty much– and she found that Tony was walking that same lonely path his father had. Gone was the cheeky miscreant, the lovable playboy who could wind a person up in two seconds flat then defuse them in another two with a rascal’s grin and a clever word. Now Tony’s haunted, empty eyes told her all they needed to – that the ever-burning blaze that was the Stark Wildfire was about to claim another victim.

However, Darcy had never been one to back away from a good fight. Too stubborn or too stupid, it wasn’t clear, but regardless in this she would plant her feet like a tree and stand. Tony may be iron left to endure alone in the heat of the Stark Wildfire, but if Darcy had anything to say about it – and she would – then the flames wouldn’t bend him, melt him away into a puddle of weakness and regret. Darcy knew what it was to play with fire. She would see Tony emerge tougher, stronger. Iron would become steel.

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

The next morning Darcy was halfway through Time’s list of important events of 2015 on her laptop and seriously considering naming Pizza Rat as her spirit animal when Tony rapped his knuckles against her doorframe and announced it was time for him to check her bandages. After she pulled the blankets back and got herself settled, he handed her a data stick and then steadfastly refused to look at her face while he rolled his sleeves up and saw to the care of her wound.

“What is this?” Darcy asked, twirling the data stick across her fingers.

Tony shrugged, his eyes on his work. “Leg’s looking good. Progressing faster than I expected, even with the super soldier juice. You’re healing much faster than the other serums I’ve seen in action. We’re safe here for another five days or so but I think you’ll be up and about in two.”

 _The other serums I’ve seen_. Darcy held back an eye roll. That was a nice way of saying ‘ _the healing rate of your soulmates who became international fugitives after our massive falling out that saw an entire German airport levelled when they refused to let me arrest them’._ Yeah, she’d already looked that up.

“Zola changed the serum when he had too many failures before me. He decided the brute strength of front line soldiers wasn’t the way to go and instead grew obsessed with resilience and precision. Greater healing, greater speed, greater agility. Supposedly. Beyond Zola’s own tests, I’m not really sure.” She pulled a face. “Apparently he was inspired by the successes of the _Nachtblüte’s_ covert strike team so I guess I only have myself to blame.”

Instead of responding, Tony hummed a non-committal response and began re-wrapping her thigh in fresh bandages. The crease between his brows was deep enough to steer a truck through and he was still avoiding her gaze.

“Tony, what’s on the drive?”

“Stuff. Just… stuff you should know. Before we leave.”

“Alright…” Once the bandage was secured, Darcy shuffled back over to the middle of the bed. Tony had picked up the med kit and all the wrappings and was about to leave when Darcy called out to him. “Come back. Watch it with me.”

He didn’t respond, but his shoulders dropped so she knew he’d heard her. She waited while he shuffled around in the other rooms, then returned carrying a plate of carrot and celery sticks and hummus. Favourite brother ever. At her expectant stare and raised eyebrows, he climbed up onto the bed next to her.

Rather than waste more time trying to drag information out of a reluctant Tony, Darcy plugged the data drive into her laptop. It immediately brought up a plethora of files, videos, documents and images, many of which were marked ‘classified’ or clearly belonged to various global military departments. All of them were about the Avengers. Natasha Romanoff, aka The Black Widow. Bruce Banner, aka The Hulk. Thor Odinson of Asgard. Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye. Sam Wilson, aka Falcon. James Rhodes, aka War Machine. Wanda Maximoff aka The Scarlet Witch. Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, _no don’t think about that yet, Darcy_. Anthony Stark, aka Iron Man.

While she clicked on the links Tony sat rigid as if he was chiselled from marble, his face turned away to stare out the window. Or at those damned curtains.

The next stack of information highlighted a list of activities the Avengers had been involved in over the past five years. The battles they fought. The people they saved. The people they _didn’t_ save. She watched the Avengers charge into the fray again and again, putting their bodies on the line in increasingly desperate situations. She saw Steve square those massive shoulders and take hit after hit after hit until she had to stop watching the screen whenever he was shown. She saw the casualties list and the destruction. Video footage of life-saving last-minute miracles and of brutal, unnecessary deaths. She watched building after building crumble to dust, people’s entire livelihoods demolished in seconds. She watched enraged villains taunting them and vowing to return again and again, the innocent people caught between them nothing more than collateral damage, forgotten pawns in a greater game. 

The hummus was gone as were the two cups of coffee Tony brought her before Darcy felt ready to stop watching. There was more to see, but she’d had enough for now. In the recesses of her mind, she locked up tight the vision she’d seen of Steve and hid it for another time so she could focus on the man next to her. She lowered the laptop screen and put it aside, then turned to face Tony and waited for him to speak.

“Thought you needed to know what you’re getting into, if you stick around with me.” He waved a hand towards the laptop. “This is it. This is me. Us. Was us. It’s what I do.”

“Tony,” Darcy waited until Tony looked to her with red rimmed eyes. His face looked like she was about to murder his puppy in front of him and her heart twisted. She was very proud of how steady her voice was when she spoke. “Tony, I know what the Avengers are. Why are you really showing me this?”

His jaw ticked. He blinked but it didn’t disperse the liquid pooling in his chocolate eyes.

“You’ve just survived a war. Literally two days ago you were part of the worst war on human record. No one would blame you if you didn’t… if you don’t want to be around this. Around me. If it’s too much.”

With all the broken self-doubt pouring off Tony, it wasn’t hard for Darcy to figure out who else had told him it had been too much to be around him. She made a mental note to have words with one Miss Pepper Potts the next time she saw her. Oh she understood well enough that sometimes soulmates didn’t work out, that just because people shared Words it didn’t guarantee perfect happiness and she definitely didn’t believe that people should stay in unequal or unhealthy relationships for _any_ reason, let alone soulmarks. But Tony’s defensiveness, his insecurity was all but screaming that Pepper had ended things badly when she left. Perhaps even cruelly. No wonder Jane sounded pissed in her letter.

“Alright.” Darcy twisted around so her whole body faced Tony and ignored how the movement pulled her leg. “I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to know that there is no wrong answer. I’m not going to be upset or offended. But I really need you to be super honest with me right now, okay?”

Tony’s brows furrowed in confusion but he nodded.

“Okay. Tony. Do you or do you not want to be my brother? As in, do you want us to have a family connection? I know your dad was pretty gung-ho about the adoption thing, but that was Howard. You don’t have to do anything- ,”

“ _What?”_ Tony interrupted. “Are you insane? Of course I do! You think I just spent five years and a billion dollars because I felt obligated to dad’s memory?”

Darcy couldn’t stop the beaming grin from splitting her face from ear to ear. She would have respected Tony’s wishes if he’d said he would prefer they not continue the ‘adopted’ thing, but she would have had to be pretty sneaky about supporting him from the sidelines. And if she was really honest, she wasn’t sure how easy she would have found it to let go of Howard’s son. Especially not when she could see that son quickly becoming a favourite person in her life.

“You sure? I have conditions.”

Tony nodded his head up and down, like he had expected nothing else. He rolled his hand to encourage her to start listing them.

“Okay. Number one. Honesty. I know I’m a spy and all but that’s work. You’re family. And family means no secrets even if the news is bad. Deal?”

“Easy. Deal. I love honesty. Next?”

“Number two. My life is my own. My choices, my rules. I will always listen to your advice but no man is going to dictate my life to me. Never has, never will.”

Tony’s head kept nodding, his eyes blinking rapidly. “Good. Sensible. I like it. Next?”

Huffing out a little laugh at how easily Tony was accepting her rules, Darcy couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss him square on the forehead. As expected, his expression quickly changed to a grimace and he wiped at his head.

“Number three is no take backs. I’m your sister. That means I’m going to be annoying and caring and bossy and all up in yo’ business, you feel me? If you agree to this thing, then there’s no half measures. I’m intense. I love _hard_. And I’m stubborn. You’ve got to be prepared for that or its going to be a disaster.”

“Intense, annoying and relentless? Definitely a Stark.” Tony pulled her into a fierce hug and buried his face into her curls. It was so cute she didn’t even mind how it made her leg wound scream in protest. “What else? You want a big house in New York? A few cars? A jet? I can do that.”

“Will you watch terrible Spanish teledramas with me?”

“Will there be quesadillas?”

“Pfft. Yes. And terrible inventing of extra lines done in equally terrible accents.”

“Done.”

“And the first Tuesday of every month is Tacos and Tequila night. You’re not allowed to miss it.”

“Jane already instigated that one. It’s a keeper.”

Darcy leaned her head against the side of Tony’s, enjoying the hug for as long as she could stand to twist her leg. She wished they could have more time like this before they had to go back to the real world. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so safe.

“This is great,” she sighed. “I always wanted a little brother.”

“ _What?”_

 

 

 


	17. 2017 - Geneva. Still.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the reality of Darcy's situation really sets in...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my sweet peaches! I have a gift for you - an extra long chapter of fun and feels.
> 
> A couple notes here. Tony's mother Maria Carbonell was Italian and also the only person Tony ever really received positive affection from growing up. As such, he tends to fall back on some Italian-isms when showing affection of his own. He calls Darcy 'my dear' and 'sweetie' and other such things in Italian.  
> Also, 'Fratello' means 'brother' and 'Fratellino' means 'little brother'. Similarly, 'Sorella' means 'sister' and 'Sorellina' means 'little sister'. Expect this to pop up a few times.
> 
> Finally, this chapter is dedicated to my muse, the modern Melpomene-incarnate, the inestimable Tamani, as well as all of you who requested more Tony&Lily feels. Please enjoy!
> 
> All my love  
> -Rubie

 

* * *

 

 

The soundtrack to the last third of this chapter is this song. I don't know who made the music video but whoever they were, they were tripping balls.

[Pnau - Wild Strawberries](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qyKjaS3mn60)

 

-Rubie

 

* * *

 

 

 

Darcy plucked a seedless grape from the fruit plate balanced on her knee and rolled it in her fingertips.

“Orange is the New Black?” she asked.

She tossed the grape in a high arc to the end of her bed where a waiting Tony caught it in his mouth. He didn’t move from his spot, sitting cross legged with Darcy’s foot in his lap and an enormous collection of nail varnishes in an open box beside him.

“Good. Ground-breaking in a lot of ways. You’d like it.” He lifted up a little bottle – _canary_ – and brought it to Darcy’s toes to compare it against the scarlet red he’d already painted there.

“The second and subsequent series of Game of Thrones?”

“The best family in Westeros is named Stark. Of course it’s on the list.” Tony discarded _canary_ and reached for another bottle. _Saffron_.

Darcy clicked her tongue to get Tony’s attention and threw another grape. He caught it easily. She had really good aim.

“Parks and recs?”

“Finished in 2015. But yeah.”

_Saffron_ was rejected. He tried _Lemonine_ , chewing slowly on the sweet grape as he considered it.   

“What about How I Met Your Mother? Did the ending deliver on nearly a decade’s worth of build up?”

Tony snorted. “Don’t. Just… don’t even go there.”

_Daffodil_ looked good.

He caught another grape.

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

On her third trip walking around the tiny safehouse flat, Darcy barely even needed to lean on Tony. He beamed her an encouraging smile, looking lighter than she’d seen him since coming back. Happiness was a good look on him, she decided.

“ _Congratulazioni! Ben fatto, ragazza!”_

“Bless you?”

Halting their tour of the living area, Tony gasped and his expression turned to one of mock horror. She’d seen that face before back in 2012 but it was the first time he’d been so playful since her return. A tiny smile crept over her lips. With some decent luck it would be a few more days before General Ross discovered Tony wasn’t where he said he would be and they’d get to have some more time to themselves and she could bring out more of this side of him. Also, in addition to not actually having planned Lily Evergreen’s Big Return or discussed anything even close to what they were going to do about her Soulmates, they still had at least three tv series on their ‘ _to watch immediately’_ binge list. And the previous night they’d discovered that their local delivery place sold a salted caramel torte that was so good that Tony even agreed to let go of the disapproval he held of the restaurant after discovering the spelling error in their menu. It was a good thing too. Darcy was ready to battle it out Dance-Dance-Revolution style for that torte, leg injury be damned.

“You don’t speak Italian? What kind of international spy are you? Our mother would be horrified.”

“One who feels as though she’s going to be learning Italian very soon. Sorry Mama Carbonell! Currently other than English I speak fluent French, decent German, some conversational Russian mostly derived from cussing, and terrible Spanish from watching too much Dora the Explorer. Come on! _Vamanos!”_ she pulled at Tony’s hand to get them moving once more.

Tony sniggered at her Dora impression and they started walking again. This time when they neared the kitchen counter where Darcy had left her tablet, she called out to activate the AI.

“FRIDAY? How do I call Tony my brother in Italian?”

“ _Mio Fratellino_ , Agent Evergreen,” chirped the Irish accented voice.

Tony spluttered and dropped Darcy’s arm. “Uh, _wrong,_ FRIDAY. It’s _Fratello_. I’m her _older_ brother.”

“New York Records currently show Agent Evergreen’s birth year as 1919, Boss, and yours is- ,”

“ _It’s wrong!”_

“Nawww, _Fratellino_ …”

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

It was early – so early that the dawn rays were only just peeking through the tacky lace curtains of the safehouse but Darcy had been up for a while, ready to enact her plan. After four days of enforced recovery (with the last day of bed-rest being completely unnecessary in her opinion) and having Mother Hen Tony wait on her every need, she was going to surprise him with a big batch of fluffy Lewis-special-recipe pancakes to show her appreciation. She was a little nervous about cooking – while she’d once been quite good at it, she hadn’t really cooked much in the last five years and when she did it was with the limitations of war time rations and a 1930s kitchen. Still, she had been making this recipe since she was a kid so she was hopeful it wouldn’t turn out to be too much of a disaster.

An hour and a half later and the kitchen looked worse off than some of the post-blitz houses of 1940s London but Darcy emerged victorious with a shining pile of perfect, golden pancakes fit for a king – or an overworked brother-slash-nurse-slash-global-superhero. While putting the finishing touches on Tony’s breakfast tray she hummed a familiar tune to herself and danced her way across the tiled floor to the musical accompaniment of the high end coffee machine sputtering out its liquid treasure. Soft footsteps approaching from the hall demonstrated the effectiveness of using a coffee machine as an alarm clock.

Sighing in disappointment, Darcy turned to greet her brother who, like her, was still clad in monogrammed red silk pyjamas - only his weren’t decorated with flour handprints.

“I was going to surprise you,” she pouted, dusting off the mess on her own clothing. Well, clothing that she’d stolen from Tony but now claimed as her own.

“I am surprised,” grinned Tony as he looked over the kitchen countertops. He reached over to the tray and grabbed a plain pancake, half of which he then stuffed in his mouth. “Surprised you didn’t set off the smoke alarm. This is an impressive amount of destruction, _sorellina_ , and that’s coming from someone who explodes workshops on a regular basis.”

Darcy placed a bottle of syrup next to Tony’s plate and turned to collect his coffee from the machine, adding in a little half step and a twirl before spinning back to hand over the precious fluid. Tony pulled his tray over to where he sat at the counter so he could eat his breakfast properly while he watched her with an amused smile.

“What’s the song? One of yours?”

“No, Fred Astaire sang it. And it’s s _orella_ , _fratellino._ ”

A steady golden drizzle of syrup flowed into a puddle large enough to swim in on top of Tony’s pancakes. “You ever dance with him?”

Darcy hummed and set her own cup beneath the coffee machine. “Fred Astaire? Only socially. I’m no Ginger Rogers.”

“Nearly a _Lily_ Rogers though, so close enough.”

An awkward tension grew in the air, heavy as the syrup on Tony’s plate. Suddenly he was very interested in his cutlery, pretending not to notice how pale Darcy’s skin had grown. The beep that signalled the completion of Darcy’s coffee was deafening in the silence.

“It wasn’t a secret, was it?” he asked, his voice soft. “I mean, the way everyone talks about you three… And then Pepper found the ring and all…”

Darcy shrugged and picked up her coffee to hide behind it. “It wasn’t like that. I mean, yeah, there was the ring, but… it wasn’t… Like nothing was really set, you know?”

Tony nodded, and Darcy appreciated his gallant effort at pretending she was making sense. Of course the world assumed Lily Evergreen was engaged to Steve Rogers and probably Bucky too. Why else would she wear Steve’s mother’s ring? They were _soulmates_ , tragic ones at that, and history never needed to be true to be popular.

She sighed and lowered her mug.

“When Steve gave me that ring, he asked me to promise to talk about the possibility and I agreed that we would. But that was all I could promise him because it was before he met Erskine and Howard and became Captain America. He didn’t know what was going to happen but remember, I travelled back in time. _I did know_. My high school history class meant I knew Captain America was going to fly the Valkyrie into the ocean and disappear. The Words on my hip meant I knew I would find my second soulmate on his deathbed as a POW. And I knew that I was going to take on HYDRA. I couldn’t promise to marry Steve because none of us were meant to live.”

“You… What?” Tony dropped his fork down on the counter with a clatter. “You _what?_ Are you… are you seriously telling me that the entire time you were fighting that war you genuinely thought you were all going to die? And you never told anyone? Not even Dad? Lil, that’s… that’s…”

“Yeah. Yeah I know. Only we didn’t die, did we? And now… Now it’s seventy five years later and my little Steve is gone and my sweet Bucky is gone and they’re freaking Captain America and the damned Winter Soldier and I don’t even know _who_ the fuck I am and we’re not even meant to _be here_ and it’s just… just- ,”

“ _Cara mia_.”

Tony jumped up from his seat to wrap his arms around her just in time for the first sob to break from Darcy’s throat. Breakfast entirely forgotten, Tony led her into the living area and onto an aggressively floral couch where she curled into his side and began sobbing in earnest. She cried for her soulmates, for the pain they had endured, then and now. She cried for the friends she’d left behind seventy years ago, for Peggy and for Howard and Mac and Vern who had gone on and lived their lives and then grown old, all without her. She cried for the families she knew who had been torn apart by that god awful war and the evil with which it stained the world. She cried for herself, for the scared girl who crept through 1938 Manhattan on a desperate quest to find someone who’d listen to her and help her, for the life she’d had to cast aside to become someone new, someone different, in order to survive. She cried for the terrified young woman she’d pretended not to be, the one who shook and vomited the first time she drew a gun in battle, the first time she killed a man. She cried for the innocence she discarded without even knowing the value of what it was she was throwing away.

She cried because she had tried _so hard_ to fix things, to make the world a better place. She had tried _so fucking hard_ to make sure Steve and Bucky’s lives were as good as they could be. She cried because it hadn’t mattered how hard she tried, things were awful and her boys had suffered and were suffering still. She cried because she couldn’t even call them her boys anymore because they were different men now, had lived entirely new lives without her, had endured years of torment and terror that she couldn’t protect them from. Who was she now but a stranger to them as much as they were strangers to her? What could she offer them now when she had already failed them with her absence?

She cried for the future that Darcy Lewis lost, knowing she could never go back to how it was and that the person known as Darcy Lewis really did die in that lab explosion in 2012. She cried for her mother and her father, the birth parents who raised her with a love and dedication that she would now have to pretend never existed. She cried for Jane, her beloved friend who would never have her real Darcy back, no matter how much they looked alike. She cried for the life she would have to lead from here on, the one full of lies when all she craved was the truth.

She cried because her only ally in the entire world was the son of a man she failed seventy years ago, who looked at her like she hung the moon when all she did was abandon those who had given her everything.

She cried because she was tired. She was so damned tired of fighting. Of losing. Of getting up again. Of losing _again_.

She cried because she didn’t know what else to do.

She cried.

Eventually Darcy exhausted herself and fell asleep with her arms still wrapped around Tony’s shoulders and his pyjama shirt drenched with her tears. With a gentle kiss to the top of her head, Tony lifted the surprisingly light super-soldier and took her back to her bed, making sure to tuck her beneath the covers and smooth her hair before he sat down in the armchair to keep watch while she slept. The dishes could wait until later.

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

When Darcy opened her eyes, she quickly realised two things. One, that Tony must have put her back to bed because the man was now asleep in the armchair next to her and she had been tucked beneath the floreated blankets tighter than a newborn in swaddling. And two, that she really fucking hated this safehouse. If she created a mood board to describe this shitty flat with all its revolting décor and lack of space and abundance of soul-destroying news, she’d call it “Perpetual Puce Petunias – A Study in Despair”. And then she’d sign her name in kerosene and burn the fucker.

While she was contemplating the morality of arson versus the favour she’d be doing the world by ridding it of those curtains, Tony stirred. He groaned and stretched the kinks from his neck and then settled a determined gaze on her which Darcy didn’t like the look of at all. She had already ruined their day with her waterworks – she really didn’t want to be having A Talk right now. She decided to try and head it off at the start.

“Okay, you have two minutes to discuss my frankly excessive display back there and then we’re never discussing it again. Alright?”

Tony blinked at her. “You really are a Stark. No wonder Dad liked you.”

She snorted and wriggled around to clear first one, then both arms from her ridiculously tight blankets. “Like you’re any better, Mr Feels-Avoidance Champion. Might I remind you of how well documented your repression is?”

“You know, I can hardly believe I’m saying this but I really think I am better at this than you.” He twisted forward in his chair so he was close enough to grab one of her hands in both of his. “Lil, emotions are… well, they’re okay. Sometimes. In small doses. In private. You’re human and feeling… stuff… is a thing that humans do.”

“You’re amazing at this, Tony. Please do go on explaining how to human.”

“Oh shut up. Just… this whole situation. It sucks. And it’s okay to.. you know, feel that. Alright?”

 “Sure. Great. Good talk.” Darcy pat their joined hands. “Now let’s do something completely unexpected and go get drunk and irresponsible at a Swiss nightclub before I have to go home and pretend to be Miss Chastity and Virtue for the rest of my exceptionally long life.”

“Lily… Again, I can’t believe I’m the one to say this but that sounds like a terrible idea that we definitely should not do. And with that being said, I am absolutely the older sibling. _Fratello_ and _sorellina_.”

Darcy stole back her hand and shoved her blankets away, then spun her legs around to the side of the bed. In her head she was already cataloguing the clothes that Jane had packed for her in the bags Tony brought to Europe, deciding what she could wear. Something modern. Extremely modern. And revealing. And that in no way was anything like the modest and proper old lady clothes she’d been wearing the past five years. Sensible heels had no place in tonight’s plans. Stockings could go fuck themselves.

“Come on, Tony, live a little! Nobody knows we’re here and besides that, nobody from now would _ever_ suspect a respectable dame from the forties to go dancing at seedy underground European clubs. Don’t you want to see if those stories of Howards were exaggerated?”

Tony scrubbed his hand over his beard and squished his face up as though he was in pain, but Darcy knew she had him. “This is a terrible idea.”

“All my best ones are.”

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

“Don’t you think I’m a little past the _sowing my oats_ stage of life?”

“Hush. It’s not _sowing your oats_. It’s _gathering wild berries_.”

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

Later that night, which he would categorise as a ‘learning experience’, Tony would discover many things about his new sister.

That Lily _could_ in fact hide both the soulmark on her ribs and the soulmark on her hip _and_ three throwing knives despite being covered in a ridiculously small amount of clothing that made him want to wrap her in a blanket and hide her in a cupboard somewhere to stop all the perverts leering at her. Because he was a clever man, liberally educated in discussions of modern gender equality and also somewhat afraid of his companion, he did not mention it. He did, however, get to use his brand new Big Brother glare which was both satisfying and entertaining.

That Lily’s super serum meant that no matter how many hopeful guys bought her drinks, she’d never be drunk enough to go home with any of them. And watching her reject them was his new favourite pastime. Especially when they didn’t want to take no for an answer. That was amazing.

That Lily was a _brilliant_ wing-man and even though he wouldn’t go home with anyone either, he was still an attractive single man with needs and pretty European girls kissing him never got old. Especially when Lily convinced the third bar they went to that it was the International Day of Body Shots and he was an officially licenced referee. Thank you, _sorellina_.

That he should never _ever_ play poker against Lily and the general public should be warned about the dangers of doing so, particularly conceited club owners with more arrogance than skill who had an unfortunately quick temper and who owned an impressive sports car. Who _previously_ owned an impressive sports car, rather.

That he should never let Lily drive on the Swiss motorway in said impressive sports car when he’d been drinking all night. Dear God. Zola’s ‘increased speed and agility’ and a 562-horsepower 4.5-litre V-8 engine plus zero to sixty miles per hour in three and a half seconds… Yes he wanted to do that again when he was sober. No he would not be personally scrubbing that upholstery. He would pay people to do that. Or maybe just buy her a new car.

That he couldn’t remember exactly _why_ they decided it was imperative they visit France but between Lily’s native Parisian accent, his wads of cash and her silver tongue they managed to end up co-hosting an after-after-party in the penthouse of one of the most expensive hotels in Lyon that drew a frankly impressive amount of Southern European glitterati. The next day society pages ran with tales of a ‘secret members-only high-end French revelry’ hosted by a ‘mysterious silent benefactor known only as _The Third Centurion_ ’.

That nobody really _needs_ trunks for a swimming pool. Even if the hotel does quite vigorously recommend it.

And finally-

That his father in no way exaggerated those stories.

 

 

 

 


	18. 2017 - Wakanda and New Avengers Facility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily Evergreen returns to New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before reading this chapter, please be assured that I do indeed love all of you very much.
> 
> The following is dedicated to that darling sweetheart, Jade_Blanc, you clever girl you. You'll understand by the end of the page.
> 
> All my love,  
> -Rubie

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was a terrible photograph. It was out of focus, blurred and over-enlarged. Lens flare obstructed an entire third of it.

And it had a grip on his soul tighter than the devil.

Natasha’s voice reminded him to breathe and he sucked in air like a dying man. Her tone across the phone line was cold. Firm.

“It is likely a trap,” she warned. “They want to lure you out of hiding and this is a good way to do it.”

It was too late. His heart already beat faster, his eyes tracing the hazy outline of the woman in the photo. Loose chocolate curls tumbled over milky pale shoulders. Scarlet lips carved a sinner’s grin into his soul. She was dancing, her arms linked above her head and her attention was given solely to the joy of the movement. She was glorious, a siren in her element.

“How…?” he breathed.

“Chance, if you can believe it. An associate of mine was tracking a mark in Lyons. After he developed his surveillance pics, he happened to see Stark and the girl in the background of this one.”

 _The girl_.

“Steve. The likelihood of this actually being her…”

“Yeah,” he heard himself saying. “Yeah, I know.”

“Jane Foster isn’t even on the planet anymore. Stark would have had to do this entirely on his own, somehow keep it away from Ross. It is improbable at best.”

 _Entirely on his own_.

Natasha’s words sliced through his gut and he was thrust back in time through his memories, back to the Facility and the last time he spoke with Stark.

_“You’re seriously leaving? Now? Jane is literally weeks away from us being able to test this machine and you’re walking away?”_

_“Tony… you don’t understand.”_

_“You’re damned right I don’t understand! She’s your soulmate! And you’re just going to ditch her to run off with your boyfriend?”_

_“He’s my soulmate too, and he needs me.”_

_“Bullshit he’s your soulmate. Where are his words? Where are yours on him? Lily is your fucking soulmate, you arrogant fuck, and **she** needs you. Or have you forgotten what it’s like to wake up from a fucking war to a world seventy years after you went to sleep, where everyone you know is dead?”_

_“I’ve made my decision. I need to find Bucky.”_

_“Rogers, I swear to God if you walk away, if you abandon her… don’t even fucking think about coming back.”_

_“I’m sorry, Tony,”_

He had thought he was doing the right thing. Bucky _had_ needed him, the UN was hunting him for a heinous crime that Steve just knew he didn’t commit. He had to find Bucky first, keep him hidden, keep him safe, get him to the _Hallelayla_ before he was discovered. If Bucky had been captured, they would have locked him up and thrown away the key without any sort of fair justice being served and he’d never be seen again. Or worse. HYDRA still crawled inside the great machine that was the bureaucracy and once Bucky was arrested it would take such little effort for them to reclaim their Soldier…

He’d told himself that it had been four and a half years of failed experiments, regardless of how many times they thought they were ‘close’. That if Stark and Foster were ever going to successfully bring Lily back they would have already done so. He’d resigned himself to the knowledge that Tony had been right all those years ago and that false hope _was_ cruel. He’d hardened his heart in the face of the bleak reality that his Lily wouldn’t find her way home. That he and Bucky would have to make their way forward together without her as best they could.

And he had been wrong.

 

“Give me a week. I’ll dig through some favours I’m owed, see what I can turn up.” Natasha was still speaking, as though Steve’s heart wasn’t shrivelling into dust inside his bones. “We need to know if it’s a trap. _You_ need to stay where you are. If Ross manages to- ,”

“I’ll stay,” he said. His throat was dry as a desert and his voice rasped. “A week.”

“A week. I promise.”

A promise from Natasha was worth more than the national treasury but he didn’t savour it. All he could taste in his mouth was ash.

“Steve… you need to tell him.”

He closed his eyes.

“I can’t, Nat. I can’t do that to him. This… this damned _hope_. He’s still so fragile. I can’t. ”

 Natasha hummed. Despite her love of secrets in general, she disapproved of his decision to not tell Bucky about Stark and Foster’s ideas about recovering Lily, she’d made that abundantly clear over the last year. However, she also kept her silence and Steve appreciated it more than he could say. It had been two years and Bucky was only now truly recovering from his ordeal as the Winter Soldier, aided by the crew of the _Hallelayla_ and King T’Challa here in Wakanda. If Steve told him the truth about Lily’s complicated situation and then Stark and Foster really _couldn’t_ rescue her, the heartbreak of losing his soulmate all over again would destroy him. He needed to be sure.

“A week,” he repeated.

“A week,” she confirmed.

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

Darcy repositioned the compact mirror to get a better view of the pin curls in her hair. She was well used to styling her thick curls into the elegant rolls that were fashionable in the 40s, could practically do it in her sleep now, but boy did modern hair products make it super easy. Comparatively, anyway. Clicking the compact closed, Darcy tucked it back into her purse and smoothed the front of her skirt before executing a little spin in the broad aisle of Tony’s private jet.

“Lily Evergreen, in the flesh,” smiled Tony. He had helped her choose her outfit before their flight back to upstate New York, steering her towards a charcoal high-waisted pencil skirt and a lavender blouse with cup sleeves that mimicked the style of Lily Evergreen from the 40s without making her look like an extra in a costume drama. Say what you like about Tony Stark, the man knew style.

“I guess we managed to clean up alright,” Darcy smiled back, referring to Tony’s own immaculate suit. He’d tucked a paisley lavender handkerchief into his breast pocket as a subtle nod to her and it made her heart sing every time she looked at it.

“You sure you want to go through with this? I can have the pilot put us back in the air, we can copy Bruce and take the tropical island option. It’s not too late.”

She nodded once, firm in her decision. “I meant what I said, Tony. We have work to do.”

Taking hold of her shoulders with gentle hands, Tony looked down at her without a trace of the clever jokester in the depths of his chestnut eyes.

“The Sokovia Accords. The UN. Ross and his cronies. They’re powerful men, Lil, and you’re a super-sized target. I know we came up with that plan, and it’s a good one, really it is, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this. I can protect you, keep you hidden. Just say the word.”

The strength of the conviction shining in Tony’s face made Darcy want to squirm but she didn’t budge, didn’t blink as she met his gaze. She knew he was worried about her but she also knew this was the right thing to do. She couldn’t sit on the sidelines while the world struggled. That’s not who she was.

“Tony. I’ve known men like Ross all my life. _Both_ my lives. Big military bureaucrats in love with their own authority? I can handle this.” She grinned then, a cheeky twist of her garnet stained lips. “Besides, its not like we can’t go buying islands later, you know, once I’ve burned the country down. We can get matching sarongs. I bet you look lovely in coconuts.”

Tony huffed a laugh, the tension of the moment broken. Following the instruction of their flight attendant, he steered her out of the jet and down the stairs to where Darcy got her first proper view of the Avengers Facility. It was an enormous complex, an angular multi-story structure made of glass and steel and pale concrete bordered on all sides with smaller buildings in the same style. A glass walkway connected the main structure with the smaller ones and lush lawn and manicured garden beds swept down from the buildings to the air strip. Darcy noticed Tony watching her from the corner of his eyes, no doubt trying to gauge her reaction to his building while also pretending not to care about it. She nodded her chin.

“Fancy. Got shares in Windex?”

A grin crinkled the corner of Tony’s eyes. He linked their arms and pat the hand positioned on his forearm. “I like to see the sun,” he explained.

Before Darcy could respond to that heartbreaking comment, a handsome man about the same age as Tony started across the tarmac towards them. He was dressed in dark clothes that looked slightly misshapen and his gait was stiff and awkward, and it took Darcy a second to realise why. As he neared them there came a puff and whine of something like hydraulics and Darcy took note of the slim mechanical supports around the man’s hips and legs as he straightened to his full height and saluted her.

“James Rhodes. I can’t tell you what an honor it is to meet you, ma’am.”

Darcy returned the salute, her movements not quite as crisp as the one she’d received, then extended her hand for Rhodey to shake.

“The honor is mine, Colonel,” she said, showing her teeth in what the reporters of her time assured her was a dazzling smile. “I’m delighted to meet the man who’s managed to keep my dear Tony in check all these years. You must be made of exceptional stuff.”

“Wow. Yeah, I just…” The handshake was continuing well past the point of being awkward but Rhodey’s grip on her hand didn’t loosen. “Just wow.”

Slipping his blue tinted sunglasses on with practiced ease, Tony sniggered. “Great job, Rhodes. Very chilled,” he called, already walking ahead in the direction of the edge of the landing strip. To an outsider it might have looked like Tony was ignoring them but Darcy could see the way his stride lingered, wanting them to catch up.

Rhodey dropped Darcy’s hand with a stuttered apology. Rather than making things even more awkward by reassuring him verbally, Darcy slipped her palm into the crook of his elbow and pointed ahead. She politely ignored how the man puffed out his chest as he realised he was her new escort. It was cute.

“Perhaps we should walk and talk? And perhaps-” her voice rose slightly “-my _impatient brother_ could wait until we assess the upcoming highly complex situation before committing ourselves to something dangerous?”

All the wind vanished from Tony’s sails and he swung back around to face them. Darcy tilted her head to the opposite side of the Facility’s air strip where a small private plane with government markings was peeking out of an open hanger. Tony’s mouth fell open.

“They’re here already?”

“Secretary Ross himself,” Rhodey replied, also coming to a halt. “You think I came out here to meet you because I like you?”

“Is it… what do… are they going to try to take her?” Tony stumbled over his words, growing more frantic with each passing second. He ran a hand through his hair, thoroughly mussing the style. “Rhodey, we can’t let them- ,”

“Just here to talk, apparently. Only Ross arrived about two hours after your message so I’d say he’s pretty keen on showing his respects. He’s been cooling his heels for the last twelve hours, probably practicing his speech.”

Tony snorted, taking a moment to calm himself. He pressed his fingertips into the bridge of his nose. “Doesn’t want to let another super soldier out of his grasp more like. Guy’s got such a hard on for Rogers it’s embarrassing.”

“Tony, work now, play later,” Darcy warned. She smoothed Tony’s hair before shifting her attention to Rhodey who was watching them with a poorly hidden smirk. They resumed walking but slowed their gait right down to allow them more time to talk. “Colonel, what can you tell us?”

When she called him by his rank, Rhodey’s smirk dropped and his arm twitched like he wanted to salute again and behind her mask of polite interest Darcy rolled her eyes. Hopefully the shine would wear off soon if they were going to be spending a lot of time together.

“Please, ma’am, call me Rhodey. I can tell you Ross is happier than a pig in… er, _mud_ right now. Tony’s not wrong when he says Ross is desperate to have a super soldier under his control and he thinks a veteran fresh out of the ice is going to be an easy mark even if he does need to get past Tony to get to you. Are you sure it was a good idea to tell them about your abilities so soon?”

“It was a calculated risk,” Darcy explained. “Compared to a typical human I’m much stronger, faster and more resilient, with all five senses enhanced. From what we can tell although I’m not as strong as him, I’m even faster and heal quicker than Steve and I can’t hide that forever. Better that I be the one to control how and when it was discovered. And this way my abilities will be on the bargaining table right from the start.”

Tony picked up the narrative, echoing the arguments they’d had in their previous discussions. He walked backwards to maintain eye contact as he spoke. “If Ross wants Lily then he’s going to have to pay for the privilege and Starks don’t come cheap. She’s seventy years out of her service and her department is defunct so he can’t pull any ‘enlisted’ crap. He’s got the Accords on his side but we’ve got conditions too. My continued involvement in everything Lily-related being the main one, followed by various others. I’ll involve Stark Industries’ legal behemoths if I need to and the Government doesn’t need a publicity war with an unblemished and newly recovered national icon coming right on the heels with the fracas with their other one, so let’s just say I’m quietly confident.”

“You’ve never been quietly anything in your whole life,” Rhodey muttered beneath his breath. He must have missed that whole ‘enhanced senses’ comment. Louder, he addressed the woman on his arm. “What are your other conditions, ma’am?”

“There are quite a number of them but the main ones are that I have a purely consultant-type role in any plans he has for me. No lengthy service contracts.” Darcy ticked the items off her fingertips. “That all medical related concerns are handled exclusively by Stark Industries. That I am allowed constant, private, secure access to Tony and the personal assistant Stark Industries will be providing me to assist me in acclimating to the twenty first Century. And lastly, that I have the final word on any and all media requests and the clearance to conduct any personal interviews I deem appropriate.”

Rhodey was nodding along right up until the last point. “Wait. You _want_ to do the media stuff?”

“Oh yes,” Darcy purred, her tiger’s grin echoed on Tony’s face. “Is it not the duty of any patriotic entertainer to help rally the spirits of her people in uneasy times?”

“Oh. _Oh_.” The former air force colonel flicked a narrowing gaze between the siblings. “So _that’s_ how it is. Sweet as sugar, hmm? Butter wouldn’t melt?”

Darcy deliberately widened her eyes and blinked, ignoring Tony’s snorted laughter. “Why Colonel, I’m sure I don’t know what you could possibly be insinuating.”

“Lord give me strength, I’ve got two of them.”

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

It was barely a minute after Steve ended his call to Natasha that Bucky knocked on the conference room door and poked his head inside.

“Hey punk. I was going to head up to dinner. You finishing up?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just give me a sec.”

Steve rose out of his chair and began to straighten the equipment he’d used during the call. The image of the dancing woman mixed with Natasha’s words to circle his brain in a ceaseless cycle of regret and anxiety, and he found that he was unable to look Bucky in the eye, unable to face the limitless trust and love he knew he’d find there. When he started lining up the spare pens for the third time, Bucky grabbed his hand and squeezed.

“Steve. What is it?”

_It’s Lily._

_It’s our soulmate._

_It’s the love the Universe has fated us, returned by a miracle._

_It’s the key to making us whole again, within our grasp for the first time in more than three quarters of a Century._

_It’s the woman I abandoned for you._

He swallowed.

“Natasha. She thinks Ross is setting up a trap, trying to lure me out. Get me back to the States.”

Bucky tugged on his hand and pulled him into a rough embrace. With his arms wrapped around his shoulders, Bucky leaned their foreheads together and smiled.

“Well that ain’t nothin’ but simple, is it? Just ignore the lure. Easy as pie.”

He closed his eyes.

“Sure thing, pal. Easy as pie.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *winks*
> 
> Told you, Jade. Psychic.


	19. Washington, New York and Wakanda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Press conferences are held.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the following happens within a two hour period.
> 
>  
> 
> Please don't hate me, please don't hate me, please don't hate me...

 

* * *

 

 

Video image of a blonde reporter in a white pantsuit, standing inside the main media room of the White House. Behind her are dozens more reporters, recording staff and audio specialists who erect a floating forest of boom mics near a raised stage. On the stage a decorated podium can barely be seen through the dense crowd.

“Thank you, Mark. Penny Weatherall here, live at the White House for NYIP News where the Secretary of State has called for an immediate priority press conference for the first time since President Ellis’s former running mate left politics midway through the last election. Speculation is running wild, with everything from rumours of a war with North Korea to the President himself being struck by some unknown illness. Any minute now the Secretary of State General Thaddeus Ross is due to- wait… yes. Yes, I can confirm, Secretary Ross has arrived and is about to-,”

Footage switches to show Secretary of State General Thaddeus Ross in full uniform behind a lectern draped with the American flag and four blue rosettes. Noise in the room slowly dwindles.

“Good morning. I thank you all for gathering at such short notice. Please be aware that I will be taking no questions at this time,” Ross begins. His voice is deep and melodic, hypnotising with its calm reassurance. He rearranges his notes with cool precision and clears his throat.

“Several days ago the President became aware of an operation run by an ally of the United States in a classified location in central Europe. During this operation, a member of the United States Armed Forces formerly believed to have been killed in the line of duty was successfully extracted from hostile imprisonment. She has since been returned to the United States for medical treatment and appropriate care. At this time I am able to reveal the identity of the rescued Armed Forces member as being Senior SSR Agent Lillian Evergreen, missing in action since November 1943. I repeat, the identity of the rescued Armed Forces member has been positively confirmed to be Agent Lily Evergreen.”

Silence.

The room is still.

No papers rustle. There is no shuffling of feet. No equipment beeps and no camera flashes.

Then pandemonium.

Dozens of voices call out all at once, each rising in volume and pitch until the swell becomes a roar. Was this a joke? Was this definitely the same Agent Evergreen from World War Two? How is she still alive? Was Captain America involved? Who was running the operation? What is the extent of Agent Evergreen’s injuries?

Ross raises a hand and waits for the assembly to quiet before speaking again.

“Due to unexpected effects of unsanctioned war time medical experimentation performed without her consent, Agent Evergreen survived almost seventy five years of uninterrupted cryostasis. With the dedication and diligence of the allied forces who extracted her, she was able to be successfully revived. Further possible effects to her health are currently unknown, however I wish to make it clear that the United States Government and the United States Armed Services will be upholding the appropriate statutes of the Sokovia Accords should it prove necessary in this case.”

This time when Ross pauses, the room is in instant uproar. Mention of the Sokovia Accords has them on their feet, shouting into their microphones, some even running from the room in order to report the possibility that not only has Lily Evergreen survived the war but she may have returned _enhanced_. Answers are demanded of the Secretary, frantic men and women crowding against the edge of the platform to press him for further details.

“As previously stated, I will not be taking questions at this time. More information will be provided when it becomes available. Thank you and good morning.”

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

In the aftermath of Secretary Ross’s extraordinary statements, the media goes wild. Emergency news broadcasts interrupt every station, hijack every platform. Historic images of Lily Evergreen from the 1940s are dragged up from every available source ranging from over-styled promotional stills to well-known magazine shoots to her iconic SSR enlistment photograph. Trending headlines scroll across the bottom of every screen.

 

AGENT EVERGREEN RETURNS, SECRET ALLIES, NAZIS AND SUPER POWERS: WHAT WE KNOW SO FAR

 

IN OUR TIME OF NEED: US CELEBRATES RECOVERY OF MISSING AGENT

 

SUPER SWEETHEART? LILY EVERGREEN’S DRAMATIC RETURN TO US SOIL

 

SHARES IN STARK INDUSTRIES SKYROCKET AFTER MISSING STARK ADOPTEE FOUND ALIVE

 

WHAT DOES THE RETURN OF AGENT EVERGREEN MEAN FOR AMERICA

 

AMERICA’S AGENT SWEETHEART COMES HOME – BUT WHERE IS CAPTAIN ROGERS?

 

MODERN DAY SLEEPING BEAUTY? UNKNOWN HERO WAKES SOLDIER WHO SLEPT FOR SEVENTY FIVE YEARS

 

ENHANCED VETERAN AGENT MAY BE GOVERNMENTS ANSWER TO GROWING SUPER PROBLEMS

 

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

_Boom._

_Boom._

_Boom._

A rolling explosion of noise.

Pumping through a hundred hidden speakers, the bass line is loud enough to be felt through the polished floor of the packed lobby of Stark Tower, subterranean thumps deeper than a heartbeat. Surrounded on all sides by an ocean of media representatives, a sleek gold lectern rises above a red dais that gently vibrates with the music. Kanye West’s _Homecoming_.

As the song’s first hook is finishing up ( _Do you think about me now and then? Cause I’m coming home again…)_ , a jubilant Tony Stark skips onto the stage to the flares of a hundred camera flashes. Voices cry out to him, desperate for his attention, but fail to be heard above the ear-scalding volume of the music ( _Coming home again, cause I’m coming home again)_. Stark lifts his arms in a double peace sign, a huge grin plastered on his face beneath red-tinted glasses. The music fades and the shouts and calls amplify. Stark laughs and waves his hands, motioning for quiet.

“Alright, alright people, lets tone it down. I get it, you’re excited. I’m excited. We’re all excited. Let’s get into it.”

CEO of Stark Industries Ms Virginia Potts steps up next to Stark and hands him a packet of cue cards. Her gold-accented dress is professionally immaculate as always but her face carries a rare relaxed mien and her eyes shine. As Stark accepts the cards, their hands linger and the pair share a tight smile before Potts withdraws from the dais. Stark clears his throat and taps his cards against the edge of the lectern.

“Right. I guess you all heard the good news then? That’s why you’re here isn’t it?”

Laughter comes from several of the reporters. Others use the opportunity to call out more questions, which Stark ignores. With his smile wide and natural, he begins.

“Without further ado, it is my absolute joy to announce the safe recovery of my adopted sister, Lily Evergreen. Welcome home, _sorellina_.” He leans closer to the mics and winks. “I’m still working on getting her to switch from Evergreen to Stark. Keep an ear out for that one.”

After the laughs die down, he continues.

“As you know, it took my father five monumental legal battles and forty four years for Lily to be officially recognised as a Stark according to United States law. Similarly, my father took it upon himself to offer assistance to generations of Lily’s extended family, helping them in whatever capacity they required when it came to matters of Lily’s estate and legacy in roles that continue through even to today. Yet despite the sometimes heavy, lengthy burden of this administration, he never once flagged in his commitment to that cause. My father did these things not because of a sense of overbearing ownership but of his deep seated faithfulness to a woman he considered so tightly bound to him through love and fidelity that not even decades apart could diminish what they shared.”

“It is with immense pride and satisfaction that today I succeed that role from my father, not only to protect my sister’s image and legacy but to protect and provide for _her_. I, Anthony Edward Stark, playboy genius billionaire philanthropist, hereby publicly declare my unending allegiance to my sister Lillian Evergreen through whatever means she deems appropriate. There will be no need to create for her a space within the Stark Empire because simply put, she has already been part of it since 1938. It is my hope, and the hope of all of the Stark Industries family, that you will join with me in congratulating Lily on her astounding achievements and her long awaited return home.”

At this, Stark nods towards Potts, who joins him at the podium where the duo begin taking questions.

_“Mr Stark! Mr Stark! Where is Lily today? Why have we not seen her? Is she ill?”_

Tony raises his eyebrows. “Really? Lily’s four days out of a seventy five year cryosleep and you’re wondering why she’s not taking interviews? Let’s just say she’s got one hell of a hangover and leave it at that. Lily is receiving appropriate care at a private Stark Industries facility and no, I’m not telling you which one. Yes, she is as healthy as one could expect for her situation and shows signs of a full recovery. Yes, she will no doubt engage in her own interviews when she is feeling better. Give her some time. It’s been a shock.”

_“Ms Potts! What does the emergence of another inheritor mean for Stark Industries? Will Lily have a role in Stark businesses? Who will hold the balance of power in the company?”_

Turning her gaze from Tony, Pepper’s face slides back into a professional mask. She nods towards the reporter.

“When Agent Evergreen was adopted, she became a Stark in all things including financially. Our legal team is still working out specifics but at this stage it is safe to say that she will have some role within the company. As a girl who looked up to Agent Evergreen as a role model for women’s achievements, I greatly look forward to working with her.”

_“Mr Stark! Have you heard from Captain America? Where is he and what does he have to say about Lily’s return?”_

The happy smile disappears from Stark’s face and his eyebrows drop beneath his glasses. When his hand tightens into a fist behind the edge of the lectern, Pepper covers it with her own.

“We have had no communication from Steve Rogers, _formerly_ known as Captain America. Neither have we heard from James Barnes. As for their opinions on Lily’s return, well. All I can say is that silence speaks volumes doesn’t it?”

Without another word Tony pivots on his heel and marches off the red platform, leaving Pepper behind to field any remaining questions and end the conference. She refuses all personal questions, instead answering only those concerning Stark Industries and the entire time her hand grips Tony’s forgotten cue cards as tightly as she’d held the hand of the man himself.

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

Steve bolted through the elegant corridors of T’Challa’s palace at full sprint, despite his usual preference for keeping within typical movement speed around un-enhanced civilians. Right now, well, right now he couldn’t care a fig about anyone else. As fast as his legs moved, his mind was moving even faster, panic well and truly overtaking him. He had been in a meeting with T’Challa and several European officials attempting yet again to garner open political support for the anti-Accords movement when the news broke and he had been unable to get away for over two hours. More than enough time for Bucky to see it. More than enough time for Bucky to realise the truth.

Lily.

It was true.

She was _home_.

_What had he done?_

The phone in his pocket buzzed, hadn’t stopped buzzing in fact since Ross’s conference was broadcast, but Steve knew it wasn’t Bucky so he didn’t bother to check it. He rounded another corner, dodging a trio of surprised palace clerks and didn’t even slow down enough to call out an apology as he darted past.

He was such a fool.

Natasha had been right. Of course Natasha had been right, Natasha was _always_ right. But he hadn’t listened had he? He’d ignored her and ignored the lessons so harshly learned in Siberia. He’d thought he was protecting Bucky but now…

Finally Steve reached the entrance of the apartment suite he and Bucky shared and threw open the door hard enough for it to bang into the wall and crack the plaster. He flew through the front hall, frantic eyes scanning for his mate. A gasp of relief exploded from his lungs when he saw the man standing in the living room, eyes glued to the flat television mounted on the wall. On the screen was a grinning Tony Stark, beaming down at a bunch of reporters gathered in Stark Tower.

“Bucky…”

Without turning away from the tv, Bucky raised a hand to interrupt him. On the screen a reporter called out a question.

 

_“Mr Stark! Have you heard from Captain America? Where is he and what does he have to say about Lily’s return?”_

     “ _We have had no communication from Steve Rogers, formerly known as Captain America. Neither have we heard from James Barnes. As for their opinions on Lily’s return, well. All I can say is that silence speaks volumes doesn’t it?”_

 

At the cool snap of Stark’s reply, Bucky closed his eyes. The screen flicked off and the remote dropped from Bucky’s hand to the floor. The bitter silence of the room turned Steve’s pulse to thunder in his ears because there was a chasm of ice between them and Steve knew it was his fault.

“How long did you know?”

The chill in Bucky’s voice had nothing to do with the Winter Soldier. It was loss and heartbreak and Steve had done that to him, made him feel that way. After being held for so long in the grip of those who leashed him and abused him worse than an animal, brutalised his humanity until he was left a soulless machine, Bucky’s trust was a crystalline thread, the barest echo of the once generous soul of James Buchanan Barnes. And Steve had just shattered it.

“Six days ago Nat showed me a picture of a girl matching her description.”

“The possible trap. The lure.”

“Yes.”

Bucky’s jaw twitched. His eyes were still closed, his body rigid as though it were held in place through sheer force of will. Knowing Bucky, it probably was.

“There’s more. What aren’t you telling me, Steve?”

Steve tried taking a step closer but froze when Bucky flinched at the movement. His heart, that poorly used lump of charcoal in his chest, crumbled some more.

“Stark and Jane Foster, the astrophysicist who is soulmates with Thor, have been trying to rescue Lily since 2012. They told me just before Sokovia.”

“Before Sokovia.” Bucky’s chin dropped down to his chest and his fists clenched, both flesh and metal. “You’ve known… for years… and you kept that from me.”

“Yes.”

“You knew my soulmate… who I thought sacrificed herself because of me… _died_ because of me… could be rescued. That the girl I owe _my fucking life_   _to_ might have a shot at surviving… and you didn’t tell me?”

“Buck, you were in a bad place. I couldn’t-, I mean, there wasn’t-,”

In the space between two heartbeats, Bucky was on him, his fist twisted in the collar of Steve’s shirt and hauling him off his feet to slam him against the wall. The picture frames they’d hung, artwork of Steve’s that Bucky chose, bounced at the impact and smashed on the floor.

“ _Who the fuck are you_ _to keep my soulmate from me?_ What _right_ do you have?”

It was Bucky’s metal fist at Steve’s throat. His eyes were hot coals that scorched with the intensity of his rage, and for the first time since Bucky’s recovery Steve felt a lick of fear slide down his spine.

“I’m sorry. I’m so- ,”

“ _She’s mine too!”_ Bucky roared, tightening his grip on Steve’s collar, pushing his knuckles into Steve’s neck. “She’s not just yours! She’s mine too! You think I don’t see it? You think I don’t see how the world talks about you? Captain America and Agent Sweetheart? _She’s mine too!”_

“Bucky, please- ,” he begged. “ _Please_ …”

The metal fist whirred and opened and Steve fell to the floor, coughing and wheezing like the asthmatic he used to be. He watched Bucky’s feet move away and that lick of fear grew to a tsunami.

“Bucky… where are you going?” He lifted his head to see Bucky staring down at him like he was a stranger. In the beautiful grey eyes that were once overflowing with love there was now only emptiness.

“Am I a prisoner here?”

“No, of cour- ,”

“Then I’m going to my soulmate.”

 

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys? 
> 
> guys? 
> 
> You still there?


	20. New York and Wakanda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily Evergreen, Maria "Pembroke", Secretary Ross, Steve, Tommo, Clint, Toffa and Marty McNamara.
> 
> Phew. This is a big chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! So this is another enormous chapter because apparently I have a problem keeping within word limits. We're catching up with some characters we haven't seen for a while, so here's a little memo to help.
> 
> Tommo/Captain Curtis Thompson: Australian owner/skipper of the fishing vessel 'Hallelayla', Tommo found and nursed a recovering Bucky when he was on the run from HYDRA.  
> Toffa/ Former (ha!) Unit Commander Christopher Tremblay: ex-Canadian special forces, soulmate to Tommo, 2IC on the 'Hallelayla', friend of Bucky  
> Martin McNamara: Lily Evergreen's former aide and teammate during Project Perennial, her attack on HYDRA during WW2.  
>    
>  [Tommo and Toffa](https://newsatnewscorpau.files.wordpress.com/2017/10/header_image.jpg)  
> (Tommo on the left, Toffa on the right)
> 
>  [Marty McNamara](https://image1.masterfile.com/getImage/ODQ2LTAyNzk2MDI1ZW4uMDAwMDAwMDA=APj58X/846-02796025en_Masterfile.jpg)

 

* * *

 

 

 

_Two weeks after the announcement of Lily Evergreen's rescue:_

 

The morning air was cool against her skin and Darcy felt a lightness within her, an extra lift in each step as she pounded the Facility’s running track. It was a glorious day, her brother was in his workshop gleefully demolishing (read: “investigating”) some shiny new tech that had been discovered somewhere, her soulmates were alive and safe, she had made a new friend, and she was _free_. Slowing down for her final lap, Darcy skipped her way over to where said new friend was finishing up her own run.

“You could have the decency to look at least a little tired,” Maria huffed, coming to a stop and wiping her brow with the bottom edge of her shirt. “You’re not even sweating.”

Darcy beamed her an unrepentant grin and lead the way over to where their drinks were waiting for them at the edge of the track. “Didn’t you know? Proper ladies don’t sweat.”

Darcy liked Maria. Formerly a member of Stark Industries’ security team, Tony had asked Maria to be Lily Evergreen’s assistant because of her history being a kick ass agent and once upon a time the Assistant Director of SHIELD. Tony trusted Maria to be able to protect his sister and also recognised her ability to further their plans with her connections and personal skill set. Darcy liked her because of her deadpan snark and the driest sense of humour she’d ever come across and that included those British parliamentarians she met back in the war. Either way, Maria Pembroke, once known as Maria Hill, was a startlingly competent woman and Darcy knew she was lucky to have her.

While Maria guzzled her water, Darcy sipped hers and looked up to where the rising sun was painting the sky a kaleidoscope of pinks and oranges.

“Looks like it’ll be a warm one today. Perhaps we should take Happy and his team a few frappuccinos.”

“You have a meeting with Ross at nine, remember. If you want to look intimidatingly perfect you’re going to need to give me at least half an hour to re-curl your hair.”

Darcy sighed.

“You know when they said perfection comes at a cost, nobody ever warned me it would be my caffeine fix on the line.”

“Such is the price of freedom, ma’am.”

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

Nine o’clock on the dot saw Maria holding open the allocated conference room door and a perfectly coiffed Agent Evergreen sashaying through. Ross was already there, standing at ease at the head of the long table that contained only empty chairs, signalling that this was indeed a private meeting. Maria nodded her head in farewell before securing the door behind her, and Darcy knew her ‘assistant’ would be standing guard for every minute she was inside.

“Agent Evergreen, good morning,” Ross greeted her with a handshake. Before he released her hand, he raised it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “You’re looking lovely as ever,”

“Thaddeus,” Darcy mock-chastened the Secretary. “How many times must I ask you to call me Lily?”

“At least once more, ma’am,” he replied. His moustache twitched as he held out a chair for Darcy to sit. “Although if ever someone could tempt me into forgetting protocol, it would be you.”

Darcy laughed. Placing her elbow on the table she rested her chin on her palm and batted her eyelashes in outrageous form. “Careful, Thaddeus. You know where they say flattery will get you,”

“I’m counting on it,” he replied.

Instead of sitting across from her, Ross pulled up a seat to her immediate right. He reached into his briefcase and placed two bulging manila files on the table in front of them, and with their appearance any hint of playfulness vanished from his demeanour and the General was back at work.

“I understand the significance of asking you to take on this sort of work so quickly after returning to us, Agent Evergreen, so please be assured that I would not be discussing this with you if it were not of the utmost priority.” Steel eyes bore into her, his fervour written in the creases in his brow. “However there are innocent lives at stake. We must find a resolution before further harm is done.”

Straightening her spine, Darcy returned Ross’s look of determination with one of her own and he acknowledged it with a nod before continuing.

“Word has reached us of the whereabouts of a pair of incredibly dangerous criminals threatening the safety of citizens in Europe and in Africa. They have an extensive military background and are capable of extreme violence, as evidenced by previous encounters we’ve had with them. Additionally, and most relevant to this discussion, these men are also physically enhanced. Our typical terrorist response teams are unable to meet this level of threat without exposing a huge number of civilians to risk.”

“You believe that I am?” she asked.

“Frankly? Yes. Your test results are, simply put, outstanding. You might not top the enhanced list for strength but you are stronger than a typical human. Your speed, agility and resilience outclass everyone we’ve tested. And your tenacity and pure grit is legendary. I am confident in your ability to get this job done.”

When he pushed the manila folders closer to her, Darcy opened the covers to be greeted by photographs of none other than Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.

“Is this a joke?”

Ross’s lips thinned.

“I wish it was. However it is our reality. Look at the files, all the proof you need is right there. Rogers has turned his back on everything he once stood for, spat on every ounce of honor he once earned himself. He’s… Well, to be honest, we’re greatly concerned for him. This behaviour, these actions… They’re not the work of a man in good mental health. We believe that Captain Rogers has suffered some sort of… psychological shift, which is causing him to act against his true nature.”

“And Bucky?”

Without answering her, Ross pushed his chair back and returned to the head of the conference table. There he pressed several buttons and a slim glass panel rose from the centre of the table.

“It pains me to say this but the man you once knew as Bucky Barnes is dead. HYDRA destroyed him, mind and soul, and created a monster in his form. For fifty years the Winter Soldier has been nothing but a ruthless murderer. There is no saving him. There is simply not enough humanity left in him to save.”

The glass screen flicked on and four separate videos began to play, each showcasing different footage of The Winter Soldier in full form. Leather clad and muzzled, dripping with weaponry, the Winter Soldier stalked his prey with brutal, lethal efficiency. Scene after scene after scene showed acts of horrific carnage, pools of blood burning her retinas and the screams of his victims scarring her ears. Guns, knives, feet and fists, the Winter Soldier killed with any instrument at hand, destroying anyone who dared come between him and his target. He was unstoppable.

Finally the four video sections merged into one. On that one enlarged screen, Darcy watched CCTV footage of a grey sedan driving down a winding country road, a timestamp in the corner marking it as December 16, 1991. As she watched, the sedan hurtled forward and smashed front first into a tree, instantly igniting the engine in flames. As she watched, the grainy image of a very familiar man crawled from the driver’s seat to collapse on the ground.

 _Howard_.

“This is the level of control that HYDRA has over their creature,” Ross spoke, his voice obsidian ice. “This is the Winter Soldier.”

Her eyes refused to obey her screaming mind, refused to look away from the horror.

A motorbike slid into view.

Howard crawled.

Begged for mercy.

The Winter Soldier had none.

“This man is not your soulmate. He is not James Buchanan Barnes. He is a monster.”

The glass panel in the table flickered and froze on its final image. It was Howard, her Howard, brutalised and abandoned like a dog in the slowly expanding puddle of his own blood.

Murdered.

“In the course of your career you’ve done amazing things for the sake of innocent people. Agent Evergreen, on behalf of those innocent lives I’m asking you to do it again.”

Darcy blinked rapidly, trying to restart her traumatised brain, trying to quiet the screaming inside her head so she could _think_ but all she could see was Howard, her wonderful, faithful Howard and the man who killed him circling in a loop over and over and over again.

“You’re asking me to hunt my own soulmates,” she managed, her voice breathless and thin.

“Rogers, yes. Bring him home, let us get him the help he obviously needs. This one,” Ross pointed to the screen. “There’s nothing human left in there, Lily. HYDRA made sure of it. You need to end it before more lives are caught in the crossfire. Before more innocent men and woman are left to die on old country roads.”

Secretary Ross closed the two manila folders and placed them on top of each other, then pushed them towards her.

“These will tell you everything you need to know.”

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

Steve watched the spinning hourglass icon with a level of nervousness twisting his guts inside out. He knew he shouldn’t be using Bucky’s phone like this, shouldn’t be calling Bucky’s friends without permission but it had been two weeks since Bucky left him, two weeks of agonising silence and Steve was just about ready to lose his mind. Nobody could find his mate, not even Natasha. She couldn’t even narrow down what country he might be in. Bucky had said he was going to Lily but they weren’t sure exactly where she was being kept and it would be nearly impossible for him to breach US borders with the Accords tightening security as it had. Every hour of silence tripled the worry in Steve’s mind that Bucky had already been caught. He felt like he was going to explode with frustration and impotence so when he found Bucky’s abandoned phone stuck behind the sofa cushions he didn’t even hesitate before dialling the one couple he thought might be able to help.

“The fuck are you?”

The rough growl came through the connection just as Captain Thompson’s grizzled face filled the screen of Bucky’s phone. Even as a four inch high shifting image, Tommo’s glare gave him chills.

“Captain Thompson, sir, it’s me. Steve Rogers? I’m… I’m Buck-, uh, _Jimmy’s_ mate.”

“The fuck you are.”

Steve frowned. He had spoken with Tommo regularly in the last couple of years, even visited him on board his boat when he’d helped to hide Bucky from the UN. Why would Tommo suddenly not recognise him?

“Listen, dickhead. I don’t see Jimmy’s mate. Jimmy’s mate’s a pretty brunette with the voice of a fucking angel. All I see right now is a special kind of idiot wasting my time with his worthless fucking mouth.”

That… was not inaccurate.

And apparently Bucky had already been in touch with the _Hallelayla_ boys.

“You’re right. I’m so sorry, sir, truly. I… I just wanted to know… to see if Bucky was okay.”

On the screen, Tommo leaned his head backwards. “ _Archer!_ Oi _,_ Archer! Quit eye-fucking your boyfriend and  get your pasty arse down here right now before I start forgetting promises and ruin this fuckwit!”

There was a scrambling and muffled swearing and what looked like several thumbs blocking the camera before the image resolved and Steve recognised a familiar face.

“Clint!”

“Hey there, Cap,” Clint waved, shooting him a sad smile. “How’s the dog house?”

Steve snorted. “Peachy. But deserved. Have you heard from Bucky? Is he safe?”

Clint nodded. “Yep. We’re deep in the North Atlantic ocean so I doubt I’d be able to get a message to him unless he calls us but last I heard he was on his way to Washington.”

“What? How?”

“Sorry, Steve, I can’t tell you that. Captain’s orders.”

 _Captain’s orders_. Wasn’t that ironic?

Steve licked his lips. “Listen, Clint… please. I’m going out of my mind here and I know I messed up and I know it’s my own fault but… You’ve got to be able to give me something. Anything. Please,”

“Fuck’s sake just tell the wanker what he wants to know and get him the fuck off my phone! Fucken contaminating it with his stupid!”

On the screen Clint’s eyes squished up and Steve couldn’t tell if he was wincing or trying not to laugh. Or perhaps both.

“So, uh, the _Hallelayla_ isn’t line fishing so much these days as helping out the Canucks. Toffa, you know, _former Unit Commander Tremblay_ , got called back in to head up an unofficial Accords resistance movement that is definitely in no way approved of or even known about by the Canadian Government because the Canadian Government totally signed those Accords completely willingly and would never undermine their American allies by creating, sponsoring and continuing a resistance movement designed to destabilise them. Toffa’s resurrected the ol’ Railroad idea, smuggling persons of interest out of America and into the North and beyond. We’ve got a few on board with us permanently but most of the time we’re just ferry men. Now I’m not saying he did and I’m not saying he didn’t, but when there’s a secret way out of a country there’s also a secret way in. Get me?”

Relief was a cool balm on his stinging nerves and Steve collapsed onto his couch, his whole body deflating. Not only was Bucky safe, but he had help. Toffa wouldn’t let him down.

“Thank you, Clint.”

“No problem. So, uh, any chance you’ll be turning up back in the US yourself? Gotta admit I’m kind of surprised you haven’t gone running to her already.”

“Considering everyone I know who could help me is refusing to because I am both an idiot and a fugitive, that would be a no. Nat’s getting an unholy amount of joy from telling me ‘she’s only trying to protect me’ and ‘it’s for my own good’.”

Leaning his head on the back of the couch, Steve slung his arm over his face. Now that he knew Bucky was safe his brain was helpfully reminding him of just how bad he had messed everything up. With Bucky. With Lily. With Stark and the Avengers. Yep, pretty much everything.

 “Wow. Sorry, man.”

“Just like you said. Dog house.”

“Archer, get off the fucking phone!”

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

Maria slowed and stopped the car outside a little Victorian cottage. A curved pebbled path ran up to the front steps, lined with immaculately trimmed rosebushes. Stained glass wind chimes hung from the porch, tinkling in the breeze.

“So. Your guy.” Maria said. “He’s a hundred years old, Lily. What can he do? Throw his teeth at the enemy?”

Darcy watched the reflections of the chimes’ coloured glass shimmer against the pale weatherboards.

“Ninety seven.”

Ignoring Maria’s eye roll, Darcy opened the door and exited the car. She took her time approaching the porch, savouring the home that her friend had built for himself and his family and the little touches that spoke of his care and love for them. A tiny American flag fluttered atop the mailbox. A collection of painted stone fairies peeked out from between the roses.

Beneath the front door a mat proclaimed the words “ _Speak Friend and Enter”_ and she smiled at the reference, remembering their night time discussions on everything Tolkien. She tapped the door knocker - a miniature Mjolnir, complete with lightning.

A pretty pale-haired woman in her sixties answered. She was soft and round and her eyes were crinkled with lines from a lifetime of laughter.

“Agent Evergreen,” she beamed. She shook Darcy’s hand and then stood aside for her to enter the cottage. “I… I can’t tell you what it meant to us when you phoned. This is… well. It’s simply amazing to meet you. Please, call me… ha, I guess you can call me Lillian.”

The woman who had been named after her laughed at the joke, and Darcy smiled.

“Thank you, Lillian. I can assure you, the pleasure is all mine.”

Lillian led her through a neat little corridor to a sunroom at the rear of the house. Calling out to her father, the woman motioned for to Darcy to go ahead and left to fetch some lemonade and give the pair a moment to themselves.

Timber framed windows lined three walls, showering the sun’s benediction into the room and warming it like a hug straight from the heavens. Darcy stepped inside, turning her gaze to the man she had come to meet. Martin McNamara sat up in a white rocking chair, neatly dressed in a cream suit complete with a tie and his miniature medals and a colourful quilt spread across his lap as though he was expecting to meet the Queen. His thick blonde locks had been lost to time, now just a pale fuzz pressed smooth above his ears, and his ninety seven years were worn into the lines of his skin. His eyes, however, were ageless glittering emeralds as they looked on her.

“Lily.”

His voice broke on her name, breathing it like a prayer. She blinked away the moisture gathering in her eyes and smiled.

“Hello Mac. Sorry I’m late.”

Mac reached out to her and she went, kneeling next to his chair. He grasped her hands with his, his wrinkled knuckles swollen with arthritis and years of labour, and his face stretched with joy as he looked down on her. Those jade eyes swam with his emotion that he made no move to hide.

“Lily. Dear Lily. Look at you, beautiful as ever.”

She laughed, the sound ending in a watery hiccup.

“Thought I’d better come check up on you. See what trouble you got yourself into when I was gone.”

“Ah, well. Yes.” Mac’s eyes moved to a portrait on the wall, a handsome woman with caramel skin and a mischievous grin. “Trouble had a way of finding me, that’s true. Her name was Patricia. She was a firebrand. You would have loved her.”

“Tell me about her? And your girls? I’ve missed so much.”

Slowly, the sun shifted towards its zenith. There was lemonade and cake and photographs and stories of victory and heartbreak and success and loss. Darcy smiled and laughed and cried and when Mac showed signs of tiring, she asked Lillian to give them a moment of privacy. Mac watched his daughter exit the room, then turned an expectant eyebrow to Darcy.

“Now I suppose you’ll tell me the real reason you’ve come?”

“I couldn’t just visit my friend and meet the daughter he named after me?”

Mac chuckled, the sound genuine and free of any bitterness. A devious spark lit his eyes, lifting years from his face. “You forget, dear, the level of closeness that war time will bring to a man and his SO. Ninety seven years old I may be, but I remember you, Lily. You’ve been bouncing on your heels all morning waiting to ask me something.”

Trying to look at least modestly chagrined, Darcy gave a rueful smile. “Sharp as ever, Marty.”

He hummed, non-committal. “You know, they say that when we Agents retire it’s never forever. We’re always ready and waiting to be tapped on the shoulder, drawn out for one more fight. I waited for you.”

She watched him absently trace the outline of the medals on his chest with his thumb.

“Marty,” she said. “This is me tapping. One last mission.”

Mac smiled.

“By Odin’s glittering eyepatch.”

 

 


	21. Avengers Facility and Washington DC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout from Ross and Lily's meeting, plus a visitor in Washington.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pirouettes into view*
> 
> For you, my sweethearts.  
> Because I love you.
> 
> *drops chapter*  
> *pirouettes away*

 

* * *

 

 

Tony Stark excelled in many areas. He was a genius, an astute philanthropist, a prodigious engineer and an attractive male who had the good fortune to be born to a wealthy family in a capitalist democracy. He could speak six Earthly languages and program in two dozen more, some of which he invented himself. He was a gifted pianist, a fact often overlooked by everyone except his late mother. He could forge substance from nothing, create world-altering designs as he dreamed. He could make a mean risotto.

He also knew how to compartmentalise like a boss. Psychological self-destruction? He’s your man.

In fact, before Rhodey strong-armed him into accepting legitimate professional help following Pepper’s departure, Tony Stark considered himself somewhat of a paragon of emotional avoidance and unhealthy coping mechanisms. It’s how he survived long enough to save the world a few times over, so it was apparently good for something. Not his mental or physical health, his interpersonal relationships, his company, his legacy or his reputation but those were just minor details in the long run, really, weren’t they?

Taking into account this rich personal history of internal dysfunction, Tony Stark believed himself to be well placed to evaluate the technique when evidence of it appeared within his environs.

As it had these past three days.

Three days prior Lily stormed into his lab like a hurricane in tac-black and in full _Nachtblüte_ mode to annex a corner of his space and establish a workstation for herself positioned where she could simultaneously watch the entrance doors, the external glass walls, the security feeds and his favourite steel bench. She camped there like a silent sentinel, a live wire constantly alert for threats, practically humming with energy. An unusually pretty gargoyle who moved only to switch her basalt glare between her screens, the windows, the doors and him as she worked on a research project of her own. Tony wasn’t entirely sure how Zola’s serum affected Lily’s body’s need for sleep but whenever he woke from his couch-based catnaps it was to find her either guarding him while _he_ slept, scanning her screens or watching out the windows. She refused to eat even when he tried to bribe her with her favourites, although she did occasionally accept Dum-E’s green smoothie offerings. She silenced all incoming communication, even with Maria, ignored his conversation attempts and twisted his shoulder when he tried to man-handle her into a hug. He did not try that again.

It was late in the evening of the first day when Maria found her. Lily had managed to convince FRIDAY to lie about her whereabouts which forced Maria to comb through the Facility on foot but despite the irritation the ever unflappable Maria didn’t seem put out. Neither did she seem surprised by Lily’s altered demeanour, merely mentioning to Tony that she had experienced similar episodes with her former boss Nick Fury and that Lily’s hypervigilant paranoia should wear off as she processed whatever she needed to process. Then Maria described the disastrous meeting between Lily and Ross, the orders Lily’d been given and how she’d been given them. Neither woman flinched when Tony upended a tray of steel instruments, sending them flying across the room to clatter against the thick glass wall.

“That… that… _dick!”_ he snarled. No wonder Lily needed to _process_. “How dare he use my parent’s murder as a fucking manipulation tool?”

“We knew this was coming,” shrugged Maria. “Ross wants her emotional, off-kilter. He’s trying to break her so he can control her and get a super soldier puppet of his very own. We _expected_ this. It’s why she made sure to be here with you when it inevitably came up. She kept her cool, did what she needed to do, and is now taking time to deal with it.”

“ _Fuck_.”

Tony ran both his hands through his hair and linked his fingers behind his head. He looked over to Lily, his only family, the sister he’d had his whole life but only just met. Maria was right that they _had_ predicted Ross would go straight for the emotional jugular but predicting it and living it were two different things. Goddamn Ross and his constant mind-fuckery. This wasn’t some game, shuffling pieces across a chess board. Lily wasn’t some tool, a weapon to be kept in Ross’s arsenal. She was a living, breathing, _feeling_ person. Just how much pain could she be expected to take?

“After the meeting we went to see one of her old allies, Martin McNamara,” Maria continued as she moved to exit the room. “I don’t know what they talked about but she’s scrapped the original plan and is developing a new one. She hasn’t told me about it yet but I could see her working it through. We have to trust her. Give her time. Until then, try to get her to rest. Ross will be nipping at her heels before we know it.”

After Maria left, Tony grew accustomed to Lily’s quiet presence. It was nice, in a strange way, to have her there. Obviously he would have preferred it under different circumstances but even as things stood he was proud that she trusted him enough to keep her safe while she was vulnerable, even as _she_ kept _him_ safe. It was painfully obvious that she was hurting, grieving her many losses and trying to establish her new reality and he would wait as long as it took for her to come round again. He spoke to her, unsure if his words would pierce through the fog of her grief but wanting her to hear that he was there, and that he would continue to be there. He took turns with Maria to intercept any Ross-related communiques, protecting her privacy and giving her as much time as he could. He watched over her when she was too exhausted to keep her eyes open any longer and fell asleep at her desk only to wake again a scant hour or so later.

Two days later Tony was elbow deep inside a new exoskeleton prototype when Lily finally surfaced from her funk.

“Tony,” she called, her voice hoarse from disuse. “I need you to cancel the homecoming interview.”

Startled, Tony banged his wrist on the edge of his bench as he quickly pulled out of the titanium exoskeleton.

“What?” He rubbed his arm. “The interview with Hellen? Forget it, it’s gone. Done.”

Lily nodded and turned back to her screen, watching as one of his algorithms pulled up various tweets and social media snippets. After three days he still had no idea what she was working on. Slowly he returned his tools to their proper placements and drifted over to her, his movements loud and deliberate even though her enhanced hearing meant she could probably hear him three rooms away.

“So… How are you doing?”

It was a stupid question, really, but damned if Tony knew a better one. As much progress as he’d been making in recent years, talking about feelings was never going to be his strong suit. He sighed in relief when Lily pulled him in to her space, wrapped her arms around his torso and melted into a hug. Gone was the silent sentinel, the _Nachtblüte_ of legend, replaced by his _sorellina_ again.

“I’m… I’m okay. Been thinking, obviously. I’m ditching the plan.”

“You know Ross is manipulating you, right? He’s lying to you.”

She squeezed her arms around his middle and dropped her forehead onto his chest. “Tony, Ross may be using the information for his own benefit but he’s not making it up. Those files were real, all of it, every last page. I went digging for proof and Maria confirmed it.”

“Gotta say I’m not loving the sound of this, Lily… What are you going to do?”

“My job, Tony. I’m going to do my job.”

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

Inside a glossy network studio, news anchor Diane Friedman sits at a smooth white desk that is bare except for a small stack of her notes. Across from her, dressed in a grey suit and a red striped tie, sits a severe looking Secretary of State Thaddeus Ross.

“-orking with the United Nations to create even tighter restrictions for people of extraordinary abilities?”

“Diane, let me be clear,” Secretary Ross shifts his weight in the studio chair, a frown furrowing his silver-shot eyebrows. “The concerns of the United Nations Sokovia Accords Panel are that currently there are loopholes in the Accords which have the potential to be exploited by dangerous individuals to disastrous consequence. Therefore it is my goal, and that of my department, to close up those loopholes to better protect the American people. We must prioritise the need for the safety of our citizens in all regards but as we have seen all too often these incidents in particular have the capacity to be truly catastrophic.”

Diane flicks her eyes to her notes then back up.

“Mr Secretary there have been international reports of a so called ‘super strike team’ designed specifically to combat powered individuals and enforce the Sokovia Accords being led by an enhanced American soldier. Is it true that you’ve assigned Lily Evergreen to command this unit? What is the President’s view of this arrangement?”

“I am unable to confirm or deny any such arrangement. I will say, however, that Agent Evergreen has in the past and will continue to work closely with the United States Armed Forces in roles that are deemed appropriate for her experience, skills and ability. She is an exceptional asset to our nation.”

“Agent Evergreen was scheduled last Friday to appear in her first interview since returning to American soil however it was cancelled at the last minute due to a scheduling conflict. Can you confirm that Agent Evergreen was engaging in Accords related operations at this time?”

“Again, I am unable to confirm or deny.”

“Are you able to comment on whether or not Agent Evergreen will be available for the President’s Medal of Honor ceremony next week? Will you be in attendance?”

“It is my expectation that Lil-,” Ross coughs. “That Agent Evergreen will be able to attend the White House for her ceremony, as will I and many others. The President is not alone in wishing to pay tribute to her extraordinary achievements.”

Diane smiles.

“Of course, she is an extraordinary woman. Moving on to a separate issue, Mr Secretary, what are you able to tell us regarding the latest uprising in Latve-,”

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

He had been in DC for two weeks.

She’d been in DC for two days.

She was supposed to come last week for some big interview but she didn’t. This week she was here to meet with the President. Congress had given special dispensation for Lily to have a second Medal of Honor ceremony, considering she’d been technically dead the first time they’d awarded it to her. The day before and two days after the ceremony had been set aside for formal meetings and luncheons and state dinners and apparently anybody who was anybody would be going to at least one of the events. Bucky had hardly needed to work for the information, people were almost screaming it from the rooftops if they managed to score an invite. He wasn’t surprised. Lily Evergreen was a huge name, had a globally respected military career, was completely untarnished by scandal and wasn’t yet associated with any political leanings. She was fresh fruit in a cage of starving gibbons.

He needed to be there.

Keep her safe.

It wasn’t hard to find her hotel. He just looked for the one with the most security outside the White House.

Then he watched.

The first time he caught sight of her, he thought his heart stopped. Actually stopped. A needle pieced straight through his sternum, pinning his heart in place even as his eyes roamed back and forth over her. Its not as though he hadn’t believed them when they said Lily had been recovered. More like he was so used to being deceived that he had automatically held back from accepting it as entirely the truth, staving off the ruin he would feel if he had been lied to again. _Again._

So to actually lay eyes on her…

He had no doubt it was her. None at all. Every fibre of his being reacted to her, memories knitting together of the way she walked, the way she held her shoulders, the way she closed her eyes against the bright sunlight even as she turned her face into it. The way she threw smiles at her security team like candy confetti, letting them clamour and jostle for her attention while she granted her benediction.

And once, just once, he thought she spotted him even though he was heavily disguised and almost entirely concealed behind a bus shelter. His mind flashed back to a dark night seventy four years prior, where a young James Buchanan Barnes watched Lily leaving his building after meeting her soulmate. Their soulmate.

No imposter could fake that smirk.

She was stunning. Glorious. Gorgeous. An absolute pistol. His angel.

She was purity wrapped in sin, his heart’s desire wrapped in his body’s craving.

He _needed_ her.

The last time he had seen her, he had been half mad with pain and deprivation, screaming his rage as he watched her be strapped to Zola’s torture table. Taking his place.

She had smiled as she laid down to die for him.

And now she was here, healthy and whole and _right across the street_.

When he heard the crack of his phone’s plastic casing, he realised he had been clenching his fist. His metal fist. It wasn’t the same steel weapon that HYDRA had affixed to him, the one that Tony Stark had destroyed in Siberia. It was a new one, crafted by T’Challa’s selected team and gifted to him with a promise of friendship and loyalty and he had never used it for anything that would leave a stain on his soul. Even so, even despite the shimmering gold beneath the silver metal, despite the care and compassion it had been created with, despite the times he had used it for acts of love when he cradled Steve in his embrace or clapped Sam on his shoulder, whenever he looked at the metal arm Bucky couldn’t help but be reminded of the evil that he had committed with the previous one.

He hadn’t stained his soul with the old steel arm. He’d drowned it.  

Bucky closed his eyes against the flood of emotions. The guilt. The loathing. The pain of reliving every death, every scream, every drop of blood spilled each time he dreamed.

How could he be considering going back to his angel when he was a demon?

He almost left. He almost turned around and walked away. He almost sliced his guts open and left them dangling in the gutter and walked away from the missing piece of his soul. Almost. Then he remembered what it had been like when he’d first escaped HYDRA’s grasp, when he’d been on the run and confused and scared and alone in a strange world. How close he’d been to giving up on himself. On everything. And he knew he couldn’t leave her. As broken and damaged and tainted as he was, he would offer every remaining scrap of himself to her, for her to use or keep or cast aside as she saw fit. He would kneel before her and beg for absolution at her hand.

Tonight, he decided. Tonight he would go to her.

 

 

 

 


	22. A ridiculously expensive hotel in Washington DC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky goes to see his soulmate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *bounces around in her seat*
> 
> This chapter was so exciting to write. I really REALLY hope you find it exciting too. Please tell me what you think!  
> If any of you are looking to chat about it, feel free to email me or find me on tumblr!
> 
> Dedicated to Tamani and DearestPersephone, for reasons they are aware of, namely, that they are amazing.
> 
> -Rubie

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He watched her as she went about her evening routine, making sure she was finally alone for the night. For the last four hours each time he thought it might be nearing the time when he could go to her somebody else had entered the room to interrupt and Bucky found himself growing increasingly frustrated at the security guard or the secretary or the hotel staff or the fifth phone call or whoever the fuck it was this time that just wouldn’t _leave his girl in peace_.

Then after the security detail finished their one a.m. sweep and gave the fourth all clear in a row (which for some reason they felt it imperitive to disturb Lily _again_ to report that highly critical information to her in person instead of letting her do something normal like, oh say, _sleep)_ , finally, _finally_ Lily slid the lock on her door in place, dimmed her lights and entered the bathroom, and Bucky was free to emerge from his surveillance nest to creep into her hotel. Like the silent assassin he had trained to be, Bucky crossed over the rooftop of her building, dodged the security sweeps, lowered himself down to her balcony, disabled the electronic alarm and picked the lock on the glass doors. Making his way into the lounge area of Lily’s suite, Bucky let out a sigh of relief when he heard water still running in the bathroom. He’d made it inside without being detected.

Suddenly a flash of bright red flew across his path. His leg buckled out from beneath him and he fell to his knees. Before he could draw a single breath, he recognised the cold press of metal against his skin as a gun pushed to the base of his skull. Another barrel settled between his shoulder blades. His breathing was hoarse in the silence, the only other noise the rain of the empty shower in the next room. With despair he realised he had fallen for the trick hook, line and sinker.

“Who are you?”

Lily’s words skated across the shell of his ear in a tone so cold he barely recognised it. He suppressed the shudder that threatened to ripple across his shoulders, knowing that to move now would be to invite death. Super-soldier he may be but a bullet through the heart or the middle of his brain would still be the end of him.

“Lily…” he breathed. “Please. You know me. You’re my- ,”

The gun at his head pushed harder and he silenced himself.

“Slowly, _very slowly_ , I want you to disarm and place your weapons on the floor.”

With all the self-control he possessed, Bucky did as he was ordered and the two side-arms that had been holstered at his waist went scattering behind them.

“Now you to look to your left.”

Bucky looked to his left, unsure of what he would find in that part of the room. There were no guards, no weapons, no traps and for a moment he was confused until he saw the paperwork that had been spread across the coffee table. It was his file. _The_ _Winter Soldier’s_ file. All of him, all of his evil, all of the death and destruction that had been wrought by his hand was bared, laid open like a dissected corpse. A tableau of blood red and gun metal grey and the black chasms of open screams. His heart thumped a frantic tattoo, pounding against his ribcage as panic began to rise.

“I will ask one more time. Who are you?”

She knew him. Better than anyone except for Steve, Lily knew him.

Lily wasn’t asking because she had been in cryo and was missing memories, because Natalia had finally come through with the information Steve had denied him and Bucky now knew she had never been frozen at all.

She was asking because she wanted to know if he was _still_ The Winter Soldier, if he was the killer she had read about in that oh-so-detailed dossier on the table. If he was the monster he had been created to be.

His heart twisted.

He _was_ the Winter Soldier.

He _was_ the killer she had read about.

But it wasn’t the Winter Soldier who had come for his soulmate today.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes. I was born in Brooklyn in 1917 in a shitty tenement apartment on the fifth floor, I am the son of George and Winifred Barnes, brother of Rebecca Barnes, I’m a decent dancer and a terrible fucking cook,” Tears blurred his vision and streamed down his face in a thin river. His voice was coarse, wretched as he begged. “Lily, it’s me, it’s Bucky. _Please_ sweetheart, please believe me. I came to see you. I just wanted to see you.”

“You broke into my room and you came armed.”

“Not for you. Never for you,” he babbled. He didn’t care how desperate he sounded, just that he got through to her before she killed him. God, this could all be over without him even getting to see her properly. “The guns were just in case. They’re Wakandan, non-lethal bullets. I never wanted to hur-,”

The pressure on his back and at his skull disappeared and a set of clicks signalled Lily engaging the safety on her weapons. He inhaled a shaky breath and tried to stifle his tears, calming the breaths that sawed in and out of his lungs. He didn’t shift from his position on his knees on the plush hotel carpet, too scared to move in case she thought he was threatening her. Instead he pulled up every inch of sniper’s patience he held within him and waited for her next order.

“You say this is a non-lethal weapon. How many shots to put you down?”

He swallowed. The wet lines on his cheeks chilled the heated skin beneath.

“One will slow me. Three will knock me out. Five and I’m in a coma.”

“And six?”

He didn’t have to speak the words. Six would kill him. They both knew it.

He waited, his heart in his throat, to see if the woman who once saved his life would take it back.

_Please. Please believe me,_ he silently pleaded. _Just give me a chance._

 “FRIDAY engage protocol _Mercury in Retrograde_.”

“ _Mercury in Retrograde_ activated, Agent Evergreen,” came an Irish lilt from the table next to them. Her phone. Of course she’d have Stark tech.

There was another crimson blur of movement and suddenly Lily stood in front of him, looking down at him with the enormous dark blue eyes that had safeguarded the last shred of his humanity for seventy years. The one face that no matter what torture HYDRA inflicted, no matter what excruciating torment they wreaked on him, they could not erase.

“Bucky,”

A small palm came up to cradle his cheek and her thumb swiped away the remaining moisture on his face. His eyelids fell closed and he leaned into her touch, yearning for the sweet blessing she offered, the grace she awarded with her fingertips. Her other hand swept across his right shoulder and down his arm to gently coax him to stand. He rose to his feet and opened his eyes to see their positions reversed, him now the taller of the two of them and able to drink his fill of the sight of her.

His angel.

Lily lifted up onto her toes and her hands linked behind his neck. Her lips, the soft ruby lips of his dreams, swept across his cheek to whisper in his ear so low that only he or Steve could have heard it.

“The room is bugged. The _mercury_ protocol will buy us time but we’ve only got a few minutes before Ross’s goons break down the door.”

Instinctively Bucky’s arms came up to embrace her. His callouses skipped across the fine red silk of her pyjamas, tangling in the loose fabric as his hands tightened around her back. He breathed in the scent of her, a sweet lavender that rippled through his memories like a pebble in a pond.

“Bucky, why are you here? You must know that Ross is hunting you. You’re not safe.” Her whispered words were gentle in their admonition.

“I had to see you,” he mumbled into the loose curls of her hair. “Steve… Steve didn’t tell me about you, didn’t tell me you were back. Thought it would send me crazy or that I’d do something stupid. I would have come sooner, sweetheart, I promise I would have come if I had known.”

She hummed and the vibration against his neck made him shiver. “Something stupid, huh? Like racing across continents into a political minefield filled with people trying to kill you?”

He huffed out a breath of air that blew a curl from her shoulder. Her cheek shifted and he knew she was smiling.

“You’re both such idiots.”

He smiled too, his soul drunk on the incandescent acceptance she graced him with.

“But we’re _your_ idiots.”

Lily pulled back just far enough to look him in the eye, her sapphire to his silver.

“Are you?”

 It was the pull of the tides. Gravity. The draw of a magnet. The bottled charm of a witch.

His lips lowered, feathering across hers like the brush of a rose petal.

“Always,”

With a soft moan that he felt all the way down to his bones, Lily’s lips moved against his and the gentle warmth of their embrace ignited. An inferno burned within him, scalding him with need. Lily’s body flattened against his, her breasts pressing hard against his chest as her arms tightened with strength that belied her delicate stature and damned if that wasn’t the hottest thing Bucky had ever known.

“ _Sweetheart_ ,” he groaned, moving to deliver a series of nips along the pale column of her throat and delighting in the gasps he elicited. He could feel her pulse hammering beneath her skin, could tell that she was running as hot as he was. His hands shifted up her ribcage, skating along the outside of her breasts.

“Baby, you need to go. You’re… There’s no time… Ross is hunting you,”

 The dismissal of Lily’s words were at odds with her touch as her hands roamed across the span of his shoulders. One hand fisted in his hair and pulled him away from her throat only to drag his lips back down to hers in another scorching kiss and it was a long moment of mouths and teeth and tongue before he broke away enough to speak again.

“Come with me,”

“Can’t,” she gasped as his embrace shifted and he scraped his thumb across her nipple. He knew he was playing with fire but goddamn did he want to burn.

“Why?”

“Cos… have work to do,” The primal part of him growled in satisfaction at the way their passion had reduced her to half sentences. His mouth met hers again. “Need to… you and Steve… and Tony… not safe,”

  _Thump thump thump_

“Agent Evergreen! Agent Evergreen open up!”

It was Ross’s men, banging on the suite door. Their time was up.

“Come with me,” he pleaded again. He rested their foreheads together and breathed in her air.

Lily took hold of his face in both her hands to pressed a final, chaste kiss to his lips and Bucky knew it for the goodbye it was.

“Go back to Wakanda,” she ordered. “Ross has found a way to get in. You need to get Steve to go back to Europe or Ross will capture him.”

She didn’t need to say what they both knew – that Ross was only interested in capturing _Steve_ , that Bucky’s death was already signed for.

“Lily- ,”

“ _Do it_ , Bucky, or all my work will be for nothing. I need you boys safe. You’re idiots, but you’re _my_ idiots.”

He stood frozen before her, the words that screamed in his mind too chaotic to form sentences. He was torn in two between wanting to ignore Lily’s objections, grab her and run, and fleeing back to Wakanda as fast as he could to get Steve to safety. Two soulmates, two sides of the globe, two threats.

“Agent Evergreen! Stand back from the door!”

Lily pushed him, hard enough that he had to take a step back. “You need to go! Please!”

Her face was stricken and the sight of her in such distress churned his guts. He tugged her hand and pulled her in for a final embrace.

“I love you,” he breathed into her neck. “Goddamnit, Lily, I love you,”

“I love you too,” she returned. “No matter what happens in the next little while, please, remember that I love you too,”

There came the shouts of a three-two-one count and then Lily’s door exploded inwards in a cloud of billowing smoke and wood shards. Lily cried out and feigned a tumble, dropping to the ground as though she had been pushed and Bucky launched into action before any of the security team could get a shot off. With one last look at his mate behind him, Bucky threw himself through the glass doors and off the balcony to freedom.

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

Darcy groaned and rolled to her feet. Noticing the mess her exploding door had made of her silk pyjamas, she dusted them down and sent a glare to Maria who was watching with her usual impassive mask. Behind her, half a dozen guards went about securing the room and its perimeter. No doubt dozens more were already outside.

“Damn it, Maria, did you have to blow up the door? These were my favourite pyjamas.”

“They’re _Tony’s_ favourite pyjamas,” Maria corrected.

She came over to stand by Darcy and handed her a tablet with the security footage already loaded. Together they reviewed the data in silence until Maria received the all clear from the security team and dismissed them with orders of a full report by the morning. She called down the hallway to get someone to organise a car to take Agent Evergreen to the secondary room across town, already booked and secured earlier that day.

Darcy only half listened to Maria’s demands to the team, the other half of her attention given over to the wine she uncorked and poured out into two glasses. She couldn’t get drunk anymore, that she knew, but some nights a girl just needed a good chardonnay. This was definitely one of those nights.

 “What did you tell him?” Maria crossed back through the devastated room, nimbly stepping over detritus as though it was commonplace to blow up her friends’ rooms. She smiled her thanks when Darcy handed her one of the wine glasses.

“That I’m under surveillance.”

“You are. By us. What else?”

“To get Steve to leave Wakanda.”

Maria’s arm stopped with her glass halfway to her mouth.

“Leave Wakanda? Lily, King T’Challa’s control of his sovereign borders is literally the only thing keeping Rogers and Barnes safe. By sending them away from Wakanda, you’ve just made Ross’s impossible job actually possible. You’ve put them _into_ the firing line.”

“I know.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... that happened. What did you think?


	23. The Wakandan palace and a french restaurant in DC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is in New York.  
> Lily is in DC.  
> Pepper is in DC.
> 
> What, oh what might happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to all of you beautiful readers who support me and keep me filled with happiness and creativity.  
> And also to everyone who agreed that (to quote Prettythinker) "Everyone forgets Darcy is a motherfucking spy."  
> Yes. Yes they do.
> 
> And she is fucking merciless as she takes full advantage of that fact.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Wow.”

Steve lifted his head from the cradle of his arms on the kitchen table. He watched the uninvited visitor carefully move through the piles of mess and destruction that had once been his and Bucky’s apartment.

“This is… this is impressive, dude,” Sam continued, stepping over the shattered fragments of what was once a side table. Or perhaps it was a chair. He couldn’t remember.

Steve didn’t bother replying. Once he would have been ashamed to have his friend witness the evidence of his emotional breakdown but that time was long since passed. Shame was not for when he punched through furniture in a rage of self-hatred. Shame was not for when he was discovered after a week of not bathing or shaving or changing his clothes. Or sleeping at the table because he’d destroyed the couch and he couldn’t bear the thought of his cold, lonely bed. No, shame was knowing that he had broken the bonds of his soul, had driven away one soulmate and abandoned the other. Shame was knowing he had failed in the most fundamental way a human could fail since the time of the Neanderthals.

“You asked for space and I gave you some. Now I’m thinking maybe I shouldn’t have.” Sam gestured towards the pile of empty tequila bottles in the sink. “How much did you have to drink to get an effect?”

He shrugged. Even after swallowing an entire bottle in one hit he’d only managed the smallest buzz, definitely not enough to quiet the roaring in his brain. That hadn’t stopped him trying though. He lowered his head back to the table. Maybe if he wished hard enough, Sam would go away.

Rather than leaving, Sam sighed and walked closer. All the chairs except the one Steve sat on were in pieces so Sam hopped up on the table instead. The denim of his jeans brushed Steve’s side and he placed one heavy hand between Steve’s shoulders.

“The understatement of the year is that this is isn’t healthy, man,” he said. “You gotta pull yourself up.”

Steve concentrated on the weight of Sam’s hand. It was warm and solid, something Steve could grasp onto that wasn’t grief or anger or pain.

“What does it matter?” he grunted.

“It matters because _you_ matter.”

Sam’s hand shifted with him as Steve's whole body deflated against the tabletop. His forearms muffled his voice when he spoke.

“I failed them, Sam,” he moaned. “They are the most important people in the entire Universe and I failed them. I was so scared I’d lose them, that I’d be without them again. I wanted to protect them and all I did was push them away. I fucked up.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you did,” Sam agreed, not pulling any punches. “Question now though is what you’re gonna do about it,”

“What _can_ I do? Every time I think I’m doing the right thing it turns into a fucking disaster. I can’t trust my own decisions.”

Sam hummed, tapping his fingers against Steve’s shoulder blade in a rhythm he couldn’t quite catch. “Okay so you can’t trust your own decisions. What can you trust?”

Steve thought about it. He couldn’t trust himself or his own mind, that much was clear. He had done nothing but ruin everything and hurt the people he loved, too caught up in his own arrogance to listen to anyone else. Tony had been right. Natasha had been right. Sam and Clint and T’Challa had been right. He was a fucking idiot.

“The team,” Steve lifted his head and Sam’s hand fell away as Steve straightened himself in the chair. “I can trust the team.”

Sam was nodding at him like he was a toddler reciting the alphabet for the first time, a huge grin shining in his face.

“Yeah man, you can. So go hit the shower and get dressed in something that doesn’t stink like a alcoholic’s pig pen. Team meeting in ten. The Fairy Cat-Mother is gonna get Cinderella to the ball.”

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

Slumping lower into the couch cushions Darcy inhaled, slipped the straw between her lips and let loose to shoot another spit ball. A loud snort came from the coffee table where her tablet was set up and displaying the amused face of her brother.

“Nice. Good velocity,” he grinned. He wiped a grease stained palm across his brow.

As usual Tony was multitasking. The occasional spark, clatter of steel or Dum-E’s claw moving into the screen meant he was working in his lab while they chatted. Although now in different cities, they still tried to speak to each other at least once a day and Darcy thanked the stars he was willing to keep it up. Without regular contact with her brother, Darcy would have gone insane by now. Out of everyone in this brave new world, it was only Tony who saw beyond the ‘Agent Evergreen’ persona and acknowledged the real woman beneath. Maria tried, bless her, she did, but Maria was a workaholic secret agent. Unless they were bringing out the margaritas, it was difficult to get her to loosen up beyond a few eye rolls and salty quips. Tony, though. Tony was _fun_.

“They should add that to your section at the Smithsonian. _Agent Evergreen, Allied spy, infiltrator, another genius Stark and champion spit baller. Menace to the Third Reich and high schools janitors everywhere_.”

It was Darcy’s turn to snort. She picked up another page of the 'classified' report Ross had given her. Like all the others he'd delivered over the past week, there was nothing interesting about it whatsoever. He was trying to get her to feel important, that's all. She tore off a scrap of paper and popped it into her mouth to form another ball.

“As if they’d ever believe it was me. I could admit it straight to Ross’s face and he’d still think I was taking the blame for someone else. I considered implicating Maria but she terrifies the baby agents too much. More likely they’ll write up the reports to blame some poor schmuck on the security team.”

“Cruel. Funny, but cruel,” Tony smirked. There was a flash of something electronic and he shoved Dum-E’s eager claw out of the way. “No! No extinguisher! That was meant to happen!”

“Hey, I’m not the one claiming Lily Evergreen is the personification of sweetness and virtue. Whoever decided that brought it on themselves.” Darcy shrugged and shot another paper wad. It smacked into the very centre of the flat screen tv on the opposite wall with a satisfying splat. She took the straw out of her mouth. “Besides, Starks are easily bored. People should at least remember _that_.”

Tony didn’t look up from his project but his eyes crinkled at the edges. She tore another piece of highly important document.

“Pepper’s in DC today. I’m meeting her for dinner.”

That made him look up. He stared right into the camera and pointed a pair of pliers at her. “No.”

“You can’t keep her away from me forever, Tony. Like, legally speaking, I do need to talk with her. It’s just business.”

Tony rolled his eyes and went back to tinkering. “Right. Like there’s absolutely nothing outside the company you want to discuss.” When Darcy didn’t deny his suggestion he huffed out an irritated breath. He jabbed at his project with a prejudice that spoke volumes about his frustration. “Yeah, thought so.”

“She hurt you,” replied Darcy without a trace of guilt. “I take umbrage with that. I feel like it merits some sort of discussion.”

Another spit ball flew across the room to land next to the previous one. Her aim was on point today.

“Lily… I swear to God I will hack every piece of electronics you own down to and including your stereo. Do not mess with me on this.”

“Like you haven’t already hacked everything within a mile of me. _Fratellino_ , I’m only doing my job as a big sister. I’m looking out for you!”

“ _Sorellina,_ no. Please. Just… no.”

There was a few moments of quiet between them as Tony concentrated on his work and Darcy continued to shoot a cluster of spit balls onto the television. At this rate she’d end up needing more reports. At least Ross would be pleased with that. She could imagine the gleeful little smirk he tried to hide beneath his moustache as he assumed she was becoming more invested in his policies. She waited until the tension left Tony’s shoulders and pressed again.

“I do need to talk to her about business stuff.”

He sighed. “Fine. Do that. But you will not make one single mention of my name.”

“Bit difficult to do that considering it’s _Stark_ Industries and _Stark_ Holdings and _Stark_ policies and oh, yeah, it’s technically _my name too_.”

“Lily…”

“Okay, okay. Fine. No mention of your name. I promise.”

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

In the second before the glass doors of the restaurant opened, Pepper caught sight of her reflection and winced. She looked less like the legendary Pepper _Motherfucking_ Potts, CEO of Stark Industries and all around modern super woman, and more like a child sent to the principal’s office complete with pale grey ‘I’m about to vomit in terror’ complexion. She invoked the ballet lessons of her youth, straightened her central line and swept forward.

“ _Bonsoir_ , madam,” the _Maître d'_ smiled. If he noticed Pepper’s nerves, he was too polite to mention it. “Your dining companion has already arrived and has been seated at your table. Our _sommelier_ has taken the liberty of providing a Loire Valley _sauvignon blanc_ while she waited.”

Pepper nodded. “Excellent. _Merci_.”

This was it. She had approximately thirty seconds to pull herself together and deal. She had stared down some of the most powerful people in the world with the barest ripple of her professional persona. She hadn’t given an inch when faced with world shattering predicaments. She had dealt with the everyday hurricane that was life with the Avengers. All she had to do was remember her own strengths, stay professional and not do something mortifying like cry or forget her statistics or blurt confessions of her idolatry. She'd be fine.

The sharp clicks of her four inch heels brought her a familiar comfort as she was shown to the restaurant’s private dining area. By the time they reached her table, Pepper was even able to muster a professional smile.

“Agent Evergreen,” Pepper extended her hand, grateful that she’d been able to fit in a mani-pedi before she left New York. “It is such a pleasure to finally meet you.”

The smile Lily returned was straight out of a golden age photo shoot and it felt like the entire universe had vanished except for them. Like Pepper had been crowned the Queen of All Things. Pepper may have gone momentarily deaf as well because although she could see Lily's lips moving, she had no idea what was being said. She was too lost in the way Lily’s eyes sparkled. Then Pepper noticed Lily's modest yet classically sophisticated dress and suddenly her designer clothing felt gaudy and overstated.

“-ggested you would be the perfect person to ask?” Lily was saying.

Pepper let go of the woman’s unmanicured and yet still elegant hand and took her seat, trying to blink away her momentary lapse in brain function.

“Yes, of course, anything you need,” she managed, hoping she hadn’t just agreed to sign over the company. That wouldn't go over well with the shareholders. She bet Tony wouldn’t mind though.

“Perhaps we can discuss it after we go through the portfolio?” Lily sent her another dazzling smile. “I’m afraid you’ll have quite the job ahead of you there, I’m _terrible_ with numbers.”

This time Pepper’s smile was real. Business talk was good. Business talk she could do. This was her kingdom after all. She pulled a tablet from her purse and set to work, starting with an outline of Stark Industries in general and then moving to more specific sections. The longer she spoke the more her confidence grew, aided in part by Lily’s rapt attention and intelligent questions. By the time the waiter was bringing them dessert Pepper had returned to near her usual level of poise.

“So Age-, uh, _Lily_ ,” Pepper corrected herself. She tried not to preen beneath Lily’s approval at remembering to use her first name. That’s right, she was on first name basis with Agent Lily _Motherfucking_ Evergreen. Take that, Cecilia from eighth grade who said she’d never hang with anyone cool. “What was it you mentioned earlier about needing my help?”

“Oh!” Lily lowered her cheesecake covered fork to the plate without so much as a tinkle of cutlery. “A friend of mine has moved into the community sector, charity work. He is achieving some marvelous things yet I can’t help but think he could do more if it could be… if he had the right… hmm…”

“Spotlight?” Pepper suggested. “Positive public relations can work wonders in that area.”

“Yes, yes, that exactly. However it is definitely not my _forte_ , you understand.”

Pepper chuckled at the joke. No, a secret agent who worked in the shadows of war seventy years ago would not be media savvy in 2017.

“Well Stark Industries has made many momentous contributions in a variety of community areas, both here and overseas. The Maria Stark Foundation has been a leading name in aid work for thirty years. I could put your friend in touch with our department- ,”

“No.” When Pepper raised her eyebrows in surprise at the interruption, Lily continued. “Thank you, but no. You see this friend is quite dear to me and I would take it as a personal kindness if we could provide him with the very best. And the very best, I understand, is _you._ ”

“Oh, well, that’s…” Try as she might, Pepper couldn’t help the rush of blood she felt burning her cheeks. “Of course, Lily, it would be a pleasure to help your friend. Have FRIDAY or Maria send me his details and I’ll get in contact tomorrow.”

Lily’s smile was going to kill her. The heroine picked up her fork and resumed her dessert and Pepper could breathe again.

“I’m so delighted to find the chatter about you was accurate. You are an exceptional woman, Virginia.”

Pepper beamed into her own dessert, that blush still heating her skin. “Thank you, Lily.”

After a brief pause, Lily's hand shifted to cover hers, a warm comfort in the cool restaurant.

“I must tell you that I respect the decisions you've made since ending your connection with my brother.”

Ice cold dread dripped down Pepper’s spine. Tony. Dear God, they were going to talk about Tony. This had to be a nightmare.

“Oh?” she squeaked.

“Yes. It can be difficult to maintain a working relationship following the conclusion of a personal one. I commend the way you’ve been able to remove any sentimentality from the picture. Firm boundaries are important in cases such as these and remaining strictly professional is best for all parties. Even well-intended emotional interaction could disrupt the balance. I congratulate your level of restraint.”

Unable to maintain eye contact, Pepper settled for nodding her agreement. Yep. That was her. Emotionless Pepper Potts. She certainly didn’t feel hot stabs of grief every time she returned home to her beautiful, safe, _empty_ apartment. She certainly didn’t shut herself in her office and wail into her couch pillows after every meeting with Tony. After seeing that handsome face marked with pain that she had helped to cause. She certainly didn’t trace the black words on her thigh for hours every night until she fell asleep.

“Thank you. It has been… difficult at times, however I believe I have it under control.”

That wasn’t entirely a lie. It _had_ been difficult at times. Most times. All the times. It had been difficult to leave him. It had been difficult to explain why she had to. How his constant disregard of his own well-being was killing them both. How she couldn’t love him enough to keep him alive in the face of his constant self-harm.

It had been difficult afterwards to see his loneliness, his grief, as he suffered blow after blow coming so soon on the heels of their break-up. How many times had she screamed into the void in frustration at not being able to help him, heal him after everything they had been through together? Oh yes, she was ‘controlled’ enough to not comfort him even though his need was clear in every atom of his being.

It had been difficult to see the love that still shone in his eyes. It had been difficult to see the small ways he showed he still cared, like setting her boardroom chair two inches higher than the other chairs. Or sending her favourite flowers to her office to greet her each time she returned from a trip away.

It had been difficult to convince herself she didn’t love him back. Or rather, not difficult at all, _impossible._

“My brother is going through a challenging time right now. I’m relieved you understand that things like this are best kept within the family. Him and I. And Colonel Rhodes, of course. Oh and Mr Hogan.”

Pepper’s brittle smile crumbled. Intellectually she knew she was no longer considered part of Tony’s family. It was through her own decision she was removed after all. Yet to hear it spoken aloud so dispassionately hurt worse than a thousand papercuts to her already bruised heart. For over ten years she had been the one at Tony’s side, the first one he called, the first one he turned to. Now though… well now, it was Lily at his side. Not her. He didn’t need _her_ anymore, except to do her job. Which was exactly what she wanted… right?

“Of course,” Pepper managed. “I’ll do anything he- err… rather, anything the company needs.”

Lily smiled again. “I know you will.”

 

 


	24. The White House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fairy Cat-Mother takes the boys to the ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello sweet peaches!
> 
> I know, I know, its been TWO WEEKS since I posted. How crazy is that?
> 
> Well the truth of it is that in this series alone I've been writing and editing and posting about A THOUSAND WORDS A DAY for the past FOUR MONTHS and I kinda just... ran out of puff. I took a little time to regroup and really think about the direction of Deliverance and the good news is that I'm now super confident in the final third (yes we're in the final third) of this story. Which means a better story for you! Hooray!
> 
> Thank you all so much for your patience. I know its frustrating when authors don't post when they're expected to, so I really appreciate you guys hanging in there for this last leg of the journey.
> 
> Love you all, my darlings  
> -Rubie

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_I trust my team._

_I trust my team._

_I trust my team._

Breathing in and out long enough to fog up the mirror he leaned against, Steve repeated the mantra over and over as though saying it for the six hundredth time would give him the relief he so sorely needed. He hadn’t felt these kind of nerves since his first USO performance when they had to tape his script to the back of his flimsy tin shield so he wouldn’t forget it. Only this time there was so much more at stake than the potential embarrassment of a fudged cue, and worry was heavy on his shoulders. His twitched his forearms again, his fancy vibranium cufflinks a comforting weight on his wrists just as the cold mirror was soothing against his forehead. He felt silly in this outfit. He _looked_ silly in this outfit. However his team assured him it was the only way he could attend the ceremony without raising too many eyebrows and if that’s what it took to see the celebration and maybe get a glimpse of his mate, then that’s what it took.

The jet had already been ten thousand feet in the air over Wakanda when T’Challa took him aside to explain what he would be wearing for the ceremony and that had definitely been a deliberate strategy on the King’s part. He wanted to say no. He wanted to say he had done his time in outlandish costumes and besides, wasn’t this culturally offensive? T’Challa laughed at him and said his sister Shuri designed the outfit herself and no it wasn’t considered culturally offensive because it wasn’t appropriating any Wakandan culture beyond what they themselves had chosen. Steve’s outfit had been designed this way because Shuri liked to poke fun at her brother and having Steve wear a frankly excessively-embroidered Wakandan tuxedo in T’Challa’s favourite indigo-blue along with a similarly coloured imitation _Black Panther_ headdress and gloves made her laugh. Did that make him a _Blue Panther_? Or perhaps the _limousine driver_ for the _Blue Panther_? It didn’t matter. It was ridiculous and it made Shuri happy. And considering there wasn’t much T’Challa wouldn’t do to make his sister happy it was quickly approved. Unless Steve wanted to be left behind, this is what he would wear to hide his identity.

His next concern had been how much of a risk T’Challa was taking bringing him back to the States at all. He didn’t want to start a war between the United States and Wakanda, that would be disastrous. Again T’Challa told him not to worry. The official story T’Challa presented was that “Amadu” (Steve) was Princess Shuri’s personal bodyguard in the same way Okoye and Ayo were T’Challa’s. In this role, Steve’s blue-tuxedo-and-panther-mask was declared ‘traditional Wakandan attire for a man guarding a woman’ which would sidestep any attire regulations about his covered head and face. Then T’Challa explained how even if someone _did_ suspect who Steve was beneath his disguise it would be a diplomatic infraction to openly question the word of the King in a peaceful civilian setting. Although he couldn’t keep the ruse up for long or against an official investigation, T’Challa was confident it would be enough for one night.

Now Steve was the last one in their DC hotel suite, lingering in the bathroom. Okoye and Ayo had told him to take his time and not worry about his ‘job’ guarding Shuri until they arrived at the ceremony and Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved. He was three steps away from a full blown anxiety attack and having some space to talk himself down was appreciated.

_Knock, knock, knock_

“Hey Punk,” called a familiar voice. “You gonna be in there all day? S’ rude to hog the bathroom you know.”

Steve nearly pulled the bathroom door off its hinges as he threw it open to find a smirking James Buchanan Barnes leaning against the back of the couch as if he'd always been there. He was dressed the same as Steve, although on Bucky the ornate suit looked dignified instead of ridiculous which was entirely unfair. Another blue panther mask dangled from Bucky’s fingertips.

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve exhaled. “You’re _here!”_

The grin on his lover’s face widened. “Sure I am, pal. Where else would I be?”

“I thought…” How could he explain what he thought? The sheer terror inside him when he considered the possibility he had lost Bucky again? The gut twisting shame of what he had done?

“You thought I wasn’t coming back?”

Bucky’s smile faded and a crease appeared between his brows. Tossing his mask onto the edge of the couch, he opened his arms and twitched his fingertips in welcome. Steve dashed across the room to wrap his arms around Bucky’s chest, uncaring if he wrinkled either of their expensive suits. He pressed his face into the curve where Bucky’s neck met his shoulder and his whole body shuddered right to his core in relief when Bucky returned the embrace. Bucky was _here_. He’d come _back_.

“M'sorry, Buck. ‘M so sorry.”

“I know,” Bucky kissed the side of his face. “I know you are. And I’m still mad as hell and we gotta talk it out but we got time. I ain’t going nowhere.” Still wound tight against each other, Bucky leaned his head against Steve’s and his cheek shifted as he smiled. “Besides, to quote our soulmate, _‘Steve’s an idiot but he’s our idiot’_.”

Steve snorted. Yes, he was. He snuggled closer to Bucky’s neck, seeking comfort while his poor heart hammered.

“She said that?”

“Actually she said that about us both. Fortunately we’re lucky enough she still wants us.”

“She does? You saw her?”

Hope was a flame in the darkness. Bucky had actually seen Lily without getting captured and had even managed to speak to her! Could it be possible that both his mates would forgive him? Would the universe bless him with the chance to make things right? Bucky’s metal hand idly rubbed up and down Steve’s back like he was helping him recover from an asthma attack, the movement so ingrained that even after all this time he did it without thought. Happiness hummed behind his words and the fragile hope in Steve’s chest soared.

“Yeah I saw her. She tricked me, held a gun to my head, stole both my weapons then kissed me. It was fucking beautiful.”

“She what? Bucky…”

When Steve tried to lift his head to look at his mate, Bucky just held on tighter like he too needed the contact. A low chuckle vibrated through his chest.

“And let me tell you, Stevie, now I get why you were grinning like a dope all them years. Hell of a kisser, our gal.”

Memories of sweet stolen kisses paraded themselves behind his eyes, the feel of ghostly ruby lips against his, the flare of want settling low in his guts. He didn’t need Bucky to point out the stupid grin on his face that matched his lover’s.

“Yeah. Yeah she is.”

Finally Bucky let go and shoved him away long enough to toss a mask at him.

“So hurry up then, dope, and lets go see her!”

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

_“Today marks a prodigious occasion not only because it is the first time in history a ceremony has had to be repeated because of a miraculous resurrection but because of the calibre of the recipient. The woman being celebrated today is a personal hero of mine, one whose achievements I admired as a young officer and an American, and one who I am keen to work with moving forward.”_

 

It was hard to tell with both of their heads concealed by masks but Steve was pretty sure that the look he shared with Bucky was one of pride and reverence and not a small amount of incredulity. It was on his end, at least. Here they were, two no-good ragamuffin lumps from the back alleys of Brooklyn watching as their girl, _their soulmate_ , stood next to the President of the United States to be presented with the highest medal in the country for her service. She was as radiant as ever in her military dress and red lips and elegant curled hair and if it wasn’t for the modernisation of her uniform or the cluster of recording media or the fact it was President Ellis speaking and not Roosevelt, Steve could have fooled himself that it was 1942 and not 2017.   

 

_“For over a hundred and fifty years the Congressional Medal of Honor has highlighted the men and women of our country who have performed acts of incredible valor. Who have shown a dedication to the ideals of our nation above and beyond the call of duty. It is my belief that few others have shown this dedication beyond that of today’s recipient, Senior Agent Lillian Evergreen.”_

 

Titters of agreement swept through the crowd despite the solemnity of the occasion and Steve’s smile widened again. The entire White House East Room was packed full, straining at capacity for those who wanted to watch history be made. Senators, celebrities, foreign dignitaries, it seemed like anyone who was anyone had attended.

A vibration on his wrist caught Steve’s attention. Next to him Bucky’s posture straightened, signalling he had felt the same from his own vibranium cufflink. As discreetly as he could manage, Steve tapped his wrist to activate the synced communication device in his ear.

“If you’re going for inconspicuous, you’re failing. The Shoulder Span of Justice and the Thighs of Betrayal standing next to each other are a giveaway for anyone who’s even glanced at the Smithsonian.”

He hadn’t heard it in over two years but the voice was achingly familiar and Steve couldn’t stop his entire body from tensing up.

“Tony.”

There was a pause, then Stark’s muttered voice again. Sitting as he was in the very front row, Stark was obviously trying to be subtle which meant for a snappy, unusually threatening whisper.

“I swear to God, Spangles, if you ruin this day for her I will end you.”

 

_“Lily, it is a great privilege to stand here today and publicly thank you for your service and for your sacrifice. You have been an inspiration for seventy five years not only to myself and my family but to all Americans and the advances made in your name will echo for many years to come. May you now live a life of peace and security, and take comfort in the freedoms you have won for this nation. Lillian Evergreen, it is an honor.”_

 

Steve took a steadying breath. “No, we’re not… we just wanted to be here.”

“Well you were. You came, you saw, you managed to avoid causing an International incident on my sister’s big day. Well done you. Now fuck off.”

There was a slight click as Tony ended the call. Steve looked over to Bucky, who just shrugged his shoulders and together they turned their attention back to where President Ellis was placing a very special ribbon in the dip between Lily’s collarbones.

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

“What is she saying now?”

“Still nothing, punk.”

“But I can see her lips moving...”

Their faces might have been hidden but Steve could _feel_ the eye roll coming off Bucky. He suppressed the urge to elbow him for being an ass. Just because Steve wasn’t a super spy assassin and couldn’t read lips from two hundred paces away like some people didn’t mean he deserved that kind of attitude. Lily was _right here_ _in the_ _same room as them_ , smiling and happy and dancing with Tony like she was born to it. She was so damn close and yet they _couldn’t go near her_ and it was killing him _._ So yeah, sue him, he wanted to know every word of what she was saying no matter how non-essential Bucky deemed it.

“Stark is telling her she would look prettier in a real dress instead of her G.I. Barbie getup. She’s telling Stark to get stuffed and go dance with Pepper.”

On the dance floor Tony nodded and laughed, and Lily smirked. They stopped dancing and Tony shoved his hands in his pockets and looked over to where Pepper was standing. Lily rubbed a hand on his bicep and ducked her head to try and catch his gaze. Her lips moved as she said something else and Bucky tensed.

“T’Challa, she’s going to the rest rooms. Ground floor, down the stairs.”

At a nod from the King, Steve and Bucky fell in step behind him like the loyal bodyguards they were pretending to be. Skirting the dance floor, they moved to follow her at a discrete distance when Lily’s chocolate curls disappeared behind a cluster of guests. A bubble of hot panic burst inside him and consequences be damned, he wanted to forget his disguise and run, to shove aside anyone who stood between him and his girl and not stop until she was safe in his arms. Someone grabbed his elbow and he spun with angry words already frothing behind his teeth when he saw it was Bucky.

“Get a hold of yourself, idiot!” Bucky hissed, dragging him along behind T’Challa. “You want to fuck this up?”

Steve swore. He swallowed the lump of fear in his throat and lifted his arm out of Bucky’s grip. “Sorry, Buck. It’s just- ,”

“I know, Steve, but you gotta keep it together. You know how much is at stake here and not just for us.”

Shit. Bucky was right, he had to get himself under control. He inhaled, straightened his posture and nodded. He could do this. Self-restraint was practically his middle name.

They trailed behind T’Challa at a snail’s pace. It seemed like every guest in the House had decided now was a perfect time to speak to the Wakandan King and it was pure torture as T’Challa calmly extricated himself from a never-ending queue of conversations and admirers. Lily had long since disappeared down the stairs and Steve pressed his fingernails into his palms hard enough to hurt to stop himself from chasing her. He had no idea how Bucky was managing to stay so calm. Finally, _finally_ , T’Challa led them down the grand staircase to the ground floor. Here only a few guests lingered and it took a single turn of the head to realise Lily was not among them.

“There,” Bucky pointed beyond a set of glass doors. “In the gardens.”

Steve barely registered the movement of his feet as his body was drawn towards the First Lady’s garden, his eyes glued on its sole occupant. Soft accent lights illuminating the paths transformed Lily into an ethereal vision of loveliness drifting amongst the roses, something otherworldly and exquisite and _God_ , how had he survived all these years without her? A slender hand extended to caress the petals of a rosebud and she paused her steps to lean in and capture its scent.

With an arm across Steve’s chest, Bucky held him in place. He leaned closer and whispered the location of the half dozen security guards that in his enthusiasm Steve had failed to spot and Steve’s heart sunk. Even out here they were being watched. They could not afford to slip from their roles. With disappointment sour on his tongue, Steve realised that their chance to speak to Lily had evaporated into the ether. T’Challa would have to speak for them instead.

With gentle steps T’Challa approached while Lily was still admiring the flowers.

“’ _The modest Rose puts forth a thorn, The humble sheep a threat’ning horn; While the Lily white shall in Love delight, Not a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright’._ ”

“William Blake,” Lily smiled into the rose, then released it to stand. “Greetings, your Majesty. Consider me impressed with your knowledge of English poets, although not surprised by it.”

T’Challa took Lily’s hand and raised it to his lips to drop a soft kiss on her knuckles and Steve bit his lip against a crushing wave of jealousy. A low hiss from behind Bucky’s mask told him he wasn’t the only one to feel it.

“My tutors would be pleased as well, no doubt, that I have retained something of their teaching. I confess in my youth I was not always the most attentive student.”

“And now?”

“Now I would be a poor King to my country if I did not pay attention to the flow of the currents.”

Lily’s smile was beatific. She motioned to the gardens around them.

“I was about to tour the gardens. Would you care to join me?”

T’Challa nodded and shifted Lily’s hand to the crook of his elbow. When they began to meander along the garden’s pebbled path, Steve and Bucky hovered behind them. They were close enough to hear the conversation and Steve swore he could smell the lavender of Lily’s perfume.

“I have heard wonderful stories of your country, your Majesty. Rumors of your generous hospitality do you credit.”

“Perhaps you would allow me the honour of hosting you there also? I would cherish the opportunity to share Wakanda’s beauty and achievements and no doubt there are many there who would wish to celebrate yours.”

 _Please, please, please!_ Steve wanted to shout. _Come to Wakanda, come away with us_.

“I’m afraid that is impossible at the moment. My duty binds me to the US, which I’m sure you understand. Although my brother has mentioned he would like to take me to our mother’s estates in Italy. Apparently we have an extensive winery in Calabria that is due for redevelopment.”

Lily’s voice was smooth and calm but Bucky’s posture still stiffened at the mention of Maria Stark and there was a squeak of leather as his fists clenched tighter than his gloves could handle. Fortunately T’Challa steered the conversation down a different path.

“Your brother is protective of you.”

“As I am of him. Very protective.”

“I understand the nature of such a relationship, Agent Evergreen. You need not be concerned for- ,”

Bucky’s head whipped around and half a heartbeat later Steve heard the crunch of hasty feet on gravel and the sound of several heavy breathers rushing up the path behind them. Figures emerged from the shadows, four security guards being led by none other than Thaddeus Ross. His face was thunderous, his brows pressed tightly together and his lips almost disappearing into his moustache with the strength of his frown. He acknowledged T’Challa with a short nod but his gaze was intent on Lily.

“Lily. You left the building and your escort. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

Behind his mask, Steve’s lip curled of its own accord. How dare this man speak to Lily in such a tone? Before anyone could speak, T’Challa’s voice rang out clear and strong.

“Agent Evergreen is in no danger here, Mr Secretary. She and I were discussing the nature of dutiful obligation, nothing more.”

“Well I have a _duty_ to remind Lily of her _obligation_ to our esteemed associates. Come now, Lily, Senators Sokolovsky and Gillwood are waiting.”

Ross sneered, not even bothering to hide his disdain for the Wakandan King. He reached forward to take Lily’s hand from T’Challa’s arm and tugged it to rest on own, forcing Lily into a half stumble to accommodate the move. Bucky growled and Steve started forward, tension coiled and ready to erupt when Ross’s gaze snapped to them. His lips twisted into a predator’s grin, daring them to challenge him.

“Amadu. Ohun.” T’Challa’s voice was the crack of a whip. “Remember yourselves.”

Steve closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. When he opened his eyes again he saw Lily watching them with a warning clear in her sapphire eyes and Steve realised that _she knew who they were._

“Careful, your Majesty,” snarled Ross. “Looks like your guard dogs have gone rabid. Might want to put them down before they cause you too much trouble.”

“Wakanda respects all its children, Mr Secretary, no matter what ills have befallen them. No one will be _put down_ if I have any say in it.”

When Ross’s mouth opened again, Lily stumbled against his side. Her painted lips were stark against skin that had grown very pale.

“Thaddeus…” she gasped.

His attention immediately redirected, Ross lifted a hand to cup Lily’s cheek. “Lily, you’re unwell. Have you taken a chill? Reynolds! Cooper! Quickly, get some water. Grier, help me take Agent Evergreen indoors.”

With T’Challa on one side of him and Bucky on the other, Steve watched with agonising impotence as Ross and his cronies helped Lily return inside. He was ninety five percent sure Lily was faking her sudden illness but that last five percent was a lump of dread in his guts.

“Gentlemen,” T’Challa said. “I believe it is best to call it a night.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES THE FAIRY CAT-MOTHER DRESSED THEM UP FOR THE BALL!!


	25. New York and Calabria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calabria? What the hell is in Calabria?
> 
> I know last chapter was torture for our poor trio who were RIGHT THERE but couldn't TALK to each other... so this chapter will help. A bit. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my gorgeous darlings! My patient peaches! How are you holding up? How is the weather in your neck of the woods? Are you ready for Darcy, Bucky and Steve to talk to each other? Cos that is a thing that is happening.
> 
> So...
> 
> *clears throat*  
> Ahem.
> 
> *brandishes silver cloche containing this chapter*  
> *lifts lid*
> 
> VOILA!

 

* * *

 

 

 

A familiar face met Steve and Bucky at the Wakandan King’s private airport, a black clad sentinel standing and glaring at T’Challa’s air staff as they exited the area. When Steve and Bucky walked closer she picked up a bulging duffel bag from the ground and signalled for them to turn around and get back on the jet.

Steve nodded his head in greeting. “Natasha.”

Natasha nodded back but kept walking past them to ascend the stairs to the jet they’d just exited. After exchanging a wary look between them, Steve and Bucky followed her. Obviously the Black Widow had plans for the day that required their presence.

“So funny thing,” Natasha started in a voice that expressed exactly zero amusement. She threw her bag onto an aisle seat and crossed her arms as the pair of super soldiers joined her. “After hearing your scintillating conversation in the presidential gardens last night I decided to do some digging. Turns out that neither Maria Stark-nee-Carbonell nor her family own any property in Calabria. In fact neither Maria Stark-nee-Carbonell nor her family have **_ever_** owned property in Calabria, least of all a defunct vineyard.”

Noticing Bucky’s frown, Steve knotted his own brows and crossed his arms in an unconscious reflection of Natasha’s stance.

“What are you saying, Natasha? Why would Lily lie about that?”

Nat slowly blinked at him like he’d just announced his belief that the Earth was flat. She switched her gaze to Bucky and continued. “I did, however, manage to find a vineyard in Calabria owned by Tony Stark… purchased ten days ago and gifted to his sister. Wasn’t that about the time she was telling you to leave Wakanda for Europe?”

She reached into a pocket of her duffel bag to retrieve a tablet then threw it at Bucky. When he caught it, it immediately flicked on to display a hologram of building schematics.

“Looks like your soulmate bought you a new hidey hole, boys. Let’s go to Italy.”

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

When the giant display screen in her private living area flashed with an incoming priority video call, Darcy was ready and waiting. Waiting for an hour, in fact, ever since FRIDAY informed her that Steve had opened the fingerprint-keyed lockbox she’d left for him that contained a short message and coded instructions on how to securely call her. She’d left the lockbox for him in her little winery in Calabria, so obviously Steve and Bucky had figured out the veiled message buried in the conversation she’d held with King T’Challa if they had gone there and found it. Now she could only hope that they had _stayed_ in Calabria. It would make her job so much easier.

In an attempt to appear relaxed Darcy sat on her couch with her bare feet tucked beneath her, dressed in a casual blouse and skirt and balancing a cup of steaming hot tea on her knees. She’d left the two main rolls in her hair but let the rest fall naturally in waves over her shoulders and had removed the majority of her makeup. With a quick prayer to Thor, she signalled FRIDAY to accept the call.

An image resolved on the screen and Darcy’s breath hitched. A flood of cool, sweet relief flowed through her as she quickly acknowledged the lovely Mediterranean family home she had only just recently set up before turning her attention to her boys. _Frigga’s crown_ , they were handsome. Different than before but still so earth-shatteringly handsome. Older and soul-bruised by his experiences, Bucky no longer looked like the adorable rogue, the cheeky troublemaker forever with laughter in his eyes and a single step away from dancing. Where once he would have been already leaping in to charm her now he was still, watchful and quiet. His expression was contemplative and wary but his lips were still that perfect bow and his jaw and his cheekbones had lost none of those classic marble lines. The differences in Steve, of course, were even greater than those in Bucky. The last time she’d seen Steve in person was in 1945 at Stark’s Expo just before he signed up with Erskine and she left for Project Perennial. He’d been so little then, just a fraction taller than her and skinny enough she could almost wrap her hands around his waist. It hadn’t been necessary for Perennial for her to be in New York at that time but she knew it would be the last chance she would have to see him for who knew how long. She had craved a goodbye before he underwent the huge changes of Project Rebirth and she went back to Europe and possibly to her death. Although it had been bittersweet for them both she didn’t regret it –that hour spent with him had kept her going in more situations than she cared to count– but now it almost felt like she was looking at a beautiful stranger instead of her sweet blonde seraph.

Darcy smiled. The men on screen smiled back, Bucky’s a gentle curve of his lips and Steve’s a toothy grin as he rubbed behind his neck with one hand. For a long moment the three of them were content to quietly drink in the sight of each other until Steve –seriously, always so impatient– cleared his throat.

“Lily… is that… are you really there? Or is this a recording?”

His voice sent a shiver down her spine. It was the same voice that had asked her to _please, don’t leave me again_ back in 1941, unchanged by Erskine’s serum and the transformation.

“Hello Steve. Hello Bucky. Yes I’m here.”

Two sets of broad shoulders relaxed and Steve sighed. He let his chin drop forward onto his chest, swallowed, then looked up at her with glistening eyes.

“God it’s so good to hear your voice. I… I’ve missed you so much. And I need you to know I’m sorry, Lily. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you came back.”

“It’s okay, Steve, really. I understand,” Darcy interrupted when it looked like Steve was about to continue along that path of guilty self-flagellation. “Bucky needed you. I would have made the same decision if our situations were reversed. You did the right thing. There’s no need to apologise.”

 Steve shot a quick glance to his side where Bucky was looking at him with an eyebrow raised. It was definitely a _See?_ _I told you so_ eyebrow. Then the eyebrow dropped and Bucky looked back to the screen.

“Hello sweetheart. It’s good to see you again,” Bucky said, his voice low and smooth. “You were beautiful the other night, getting your medal. Stevie and I were so damn proud.”

At the mention of the White House ceremony, Steve’s face first brightened and then quickly darkened, his lips pressing together in a hard line. He was probably thinking about Ross. Darcy needed to steer this conversation very carefully now.

“Thank you Bucky. It was a lovely surprise to see you both there. And I loved your outfits, very sophisticated. Please thank his Majesty for me next time you speak to him.”

Bucky nodded, still smiling that little smile, but Steve’s mood had soured. He didn’t smile.

“Are you safe?” Steve asked. “We’re so worried for you, Lily. Ross… That man is a monster. The way he spoke to you… put his _hands_ on you…”

While Bucky put his hand on Steve’s arm and whispered to calm him, Darcy took the opportunity to consider her words. This was now dangerous territory.

“Steve… Secretary Ross is currently a well respected member of the United States government and my direct superior. I am an active United States servicewoman and I have taken oaths to that effect. Please don’t ask me what you know I shouldn’t tell you. Please don’t put me in that position.”

Steve looked like he was about to argue. Bucky, once again, saved the day. Frigga bless that man.

“We understand, Lily. We’re not going to force you to choose between keeping your oaths and your soulmates, we won’t do that to you. We trust you. Just… just know that the _second_ you want out, we’ll come running. That right, Stevie?” He jostled Steve with his elbow, who coughed to clear his throat.

“That’s right, darling. You just say the word and we’ll be there. You took on a war zone for us and we’ve been itching to return the favour.”

“Thank you,” Darcy breathed, relieved beyond measure. She really hated lying to them. “One day soon I’ll be able to tell you everything I know but… It is not this day.”

Steve’s eyes lit up. “I understood that reference!”

She smiled back, pleased to see his mood lift. There was pain coming for them all, very soon in fact, so she would give whatever happiness she could no matter how temporary.

“We can only keep this connection secure for a little while so let’s enjoy it while we can, hey? Is the winery house okay? Will you be staying? The storage cellars beneath the main house have some old merlot and shiraz there that might be nice, and there’s a cooler room down there with some chardonnay I’ve been told. I have agents nearby who can help if you need it too. Bucky I know you speak Italian but Steve, do you remember your lessons?”

“I knew that was you!” Steve huffed a short laugh. With his eyes still dancing, he turned to explain to Bucky. “Buck, you remember that art scholarship? The one with the French and Italian classes? Gee they came in handy once we formed up.”

Bucky nodded, his brow furrowed in thought. He didn’t make eye contact when he spoke. “Does that mean… Lily, does that mean you knew even way back then what was gonna happen? With us, I mean. Captain America and the Howlies?”

Oh shit. _Shit_. He was probably thinking about how Darcy hadn’t told him he would go to war and get tortured and then fall off a train to his death. Did he blame her? It would be understandable if he did.

“To a point,” she hedged. “I didn’t know either of you would survive the war though, so that was kind of a shock when I woke up back in the twenty first century.”

“So you gifting me an’ Stevie all those things, the motorbike, the war history books, Stevie’s language lessons… it was because you knew he had to become Captain America?”

Darcy waited for Bucky to look up and meet her gaze. There was so much vulnerability in his grey eyes she wanted to look away but she didn’t. He needed to hear this and it was one time she could be entirely truthful.

“No,” she declared. “Steve would have become Captain America no matter what I did. At first I helped because I made a promise to Sarah. Then after I came to know you, and Steve and I exchanged Words… it was to give you two the best chance I could. I cared very much for you, _both_ of you, and I knew that you had a hard path ahead. I couldn’t stop the war for you but I did what I could.”

“And… you knew about Azzano?” he whispered, the words flat with suppressed emotion.

She winced. “A little. I knew you would be taken with the 107th and that rescuing you would be the trigger that meant Steve becoming Captain America in truth. But Bucky… I didn’t know how bad it was going to be. What Zola would do. I didn’t know. If I did, I would have- ,”

“You were there on purpose … you came to that prison just to save me.”

Darcy hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Yes.”

“You told me to trust that Steve would come for me and then you took my place. You saw what Zola was doing, how he was killing us, and you switched anyway. _Why?_ Why would you _die_ for me?” Bucky’s voice cracked and the liquid pooling in his eyes spilled silently down his cheek. His hands were two tight fists in his lap.

“Because I could. Because I cared. Because it was the right thing to do. Because even though I didn’t know we were soulmates at that point, I knew how much you and Steve loved each other and _I loved you both too_. Because I know that Steve and I couldn’t face a world without you in it, Bucky.”

Her words had slowly climbed in volume as she spoke, needing him to understand. He would have done the same for her, she was sure of it, and she didn’t regret it. Not even with the torture and the humiliation and the bastardised serum that had turned her into something inhuman. Every day she would make that decision again if it meant he survived.

This time the silence between them was thick and deep, emotion weighing heavy in the air like gasoline fumes on a highway choking in her lungs.

“You escaped Zola,” said Bucky.

“Yes.”

“How? When?”

Darcy glanced at Steve, hoping he would help change the course of Bucky’s questioning and spare them both the knowledge but he looked as intent as their mate. She closed her eyes, unable to hold their gaze. This truth would bring them nothing but more misplaced blame and guilt yet she couldn’t lie about it. Not to them.

“That’s not… let’s not- ,”

“How long, Lily?”

“Two months.”

Silence. Bucky’s face was a twisted mask of agony and guilt and next to him Steve looked just as stricken. They were blaming themselves. That had to end, right now. She had to ease their fears, even if it meant letting some intel slip.

“Listen, what Zola did was awful. I won’t deny that. But you need to understand that this was my choice – it was _always_ my choice. What I chose to do then and what I’m choosing to do now… it’s because it’s the right thing to do and I couldn’t live with myself if I did anything less. It’s my job… but it’s also _my choice._ You understand that, don’t you?”

Bucky’s head dropped, letting his long hair hang to disguise his face. Steve, never able to hide his emotions, looked absolutely shattered.

“I’m not… Listen, Zola’s dead. He can’t touch me again and I won’t let anyone else either. I’ve learned my lesson – I’m not doing this alone anymore. This time I have help.”

Steve tried to rally a smile but it was more of a grimace. “Are they any good?”

“Yes. The best, actually. And the soulmate of a close friend is exceptionally well connected. He’s been trampling European HYDRA nests for the last couple of years but I can call him in if I need to.”

“Two years trampling HYDRA…” Steve’s eyebrows rose in a question. He knew who she was talking about.

She nodded, confirming his guess.

“I’m not safe, not yet.” Darcy put a finger up to stop Steve’s immediate interjection. “ _Yet._ Neither are you or Tony or Jane. But that will change. People are working on it. It will get better.”

“Lily…” Steve swallowed, then set his jaw into his _determined_ face. It hadn’t changed with the serum either. “You need to let _us_ help you.”

Her heartrate kicked up. Oh this was going to suck. She nodded slowly, schooling her face to one of calm concern.

“Alright. Stay in Calabria. I’ll come to you and we can talk. But Steve? Bucky? You need to trust me. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, doll. We can do that.”

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

After the screen disconnected, Darcy placed her now cold tea on the coffee table and covered her face with her hands. Tears fell fast and hot behind her fingers, branding her cheeks with their condemnation. She deserved far worse.

Moments later –or was it hours? Days?– she tapped out a quick message on her phone and sent it. The reply came and she read it and sighed. This was going to hurt. Hell, it already hurt. That New Zealand Chardonnay Pepper had gifted her yesterday suddenly went from a lovely indulgent luxury to a goddamn necessity. Her fingers tapped at her phone again, this time dialling a familiar number.

“Lily?”

 “Maria. Ross has called for the hit. The UN squad leaves Tuesday at 0500.”

There was a long moment of quiet while Maria registered the brusque business-like snap of Darcy’s voice. When she replied, Maria’s tone was just as professional and Darcy was thankful. Maria understood that sometimes the job had to come before the heart and she didn’t bother trying to soothe or coddle Darcy with empty platitudes while there was work to be done. No doubt if Maria did try to comfort her, Darcy would probably break down and ruin everything.

“Do you want me to come?”

“No. Now that we’ve got a timeframe I want you to stay here and work on Operation Yoko.”

There was another pause, this time filled with the sound of rustling paper as Maria sorted through the piles of coded documents she and Darcy had accumulated.

“All the continental states?” Maria asked.

“All of them. Tertiary level backups. It should be easier than it sounds – Pepper’s been working hard.”

Breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, Darcy tried to push down her screaming conscience. It had to be this way. It was for the best. She focused on Maria’s voice again.

“Does she even know what she’s working on yet?” her assistant asked.

“Not yet. I’ll tell her soon enough.”

 _Or she’ll find out another way_ , her mind helpfully supplied. Her brain was a damned traitor.

“Right. So tertiary level backups.” Maria sighed. “You’re lucky I’m good at my job.”

“I am. Thank you.”

“Lily… this is the right thing to do. You know that, don’t you?”

Darcy battled against the wave of nausea and guilt, pinching the bridge of her nose to stop herself collapsing to the floor in a broken storm of tears. After few heartbeats of self-discipline, she could reply without her voice shaking.

“Yeah, Maria. Tuesday 0500. I’ll get it done.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See?! THEY SPOKE! Thats great, right? RIGHT?!


	26. Calabria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is Tuesday in Calabria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks, as always, to my beta Tamani. You are too pure for this world.
> 
> This chapter is written in honour of GraceRealised. Dear heart, I am sorry.
> 
> I love you all. Please have some hot chocolate nearby or at least something snuggly.
> 
> And remember, all good things come to those who can bear to wait.

 

* * *

 

 The villa at Calabria. Three stories, plus extensive cellars, built on a gentle hill.

 

 

Something was wrong. He could _taste_ it. If being trapped for seven decades with assassins and murderers and spies had taught him anything, it was how to spot deception. Lily was hiding something. And he had no idea what.

The part of him that was James Buchanan Barnes, the part that had lain dormant and abused for so long, the part that no matter what torture they inflicted HYDRA could never erase, _knew_ Lily’s face. Sometimes it was all he had known, unaware of anything other than the mission his Handlers gave him and _her_. He had held onto it like a beacon, mapped her features in his mind’s eye over and over in a primal attempt to retain his sanity for the long dark times in the cold. Perhaps it had even worked.

So yeah, he could see she was worried about something and she wasn’t sharing it with them. He also recognised the naked, brutal candour when she told them she loved them, _had_ loved them since the days before the war. It was this second fact that meant Bucky’s heart could keep beating in rhythm. She was keeping secrets but she loved them. He trusted her. The rest would come in time.

 Steve’s cheeks were shining in the low light of their sitting room. Now that Lily had ended their call, the tears Steve held back were allowed to fall.

“You okay?”

“Yeah… yeah,” Steve wiped his face. “It’s just hard to believe sometimes, you know? When I first woke up, you were gone, both of you. And now…”

Bucky didn’t reply. He didn’t have to. They both knew the bittersweet tang of hope after a drought. The first tiny flecks of green in formerly barren soil that they pretended not to notice just in case the seedlings died before they could flower. He twined his fingers between Steve’s and brought his hand up to kiss his lover’s knuckles. Steve rallied a watery half smile and got to his feet, pulling Bucky to join him.

“C’mon, jerk. Let’s call it a night.”

“It’s barely nine o’clock,” Bucky replied. The side of his mouth lifted despite his complaint.

“Yeah it is.”

Still smiling, Bucky allowed Steve to lead them into the room Lily had made up for them. Not all of the previously abandoned winery home had been renovated, just enough to make an extended stay here comfortable for them, Natasha and Sam. Three bedrooms, the bathrooms, the kitchen and an attached living-slash-media room had been restored and furnished with a typical Stark level of opulence. The rest of the villa was left as it had been, dusty rooms with sheet covered furniture and long closed passageways and it would garner exactly zero surprise if someone told Bucky the cellars beneath the house were haunted.

Once inside their room, Bucky secured the door behind them with a gentle click of the latch so as to not disturb Natasha and Sam. Although considering the ever thoughtful Lily had placed several empty bedrooms between them, it was unlikely they would even notice. Especially not if they were up to what Bucky suspected they were up to. Steve brought his thoughts back to within their own four walls with a quick press of their lips.

“Distracted?” Steve grinned. “We can just go to sleep if you’re too tired…”

“I’ll show you too tired, punk,” Bucky growled in return.

He took Steve by the shoulders and shoved him backwards onto the four poster bed Lily had chosen for them. They’d known this room was meant to be theirs because there was a set of sketchbooks and pencils on a desk on one side of the room and an oversized gun safe on the other labelled _Very Special_. Inside the safe they’d found a selection of old fashioned candies, a bottle of fancy slick and several packets of condoms all tied up with a pretty ribbon. Yeah, their girl knew how to look after them alright.

Bucky crawled onto the mattress to cover Steve’s body with his own, one elbow propped beside Steve’s head so he could gaze down at his mate. His other hand ran down Steve’s arm, over his bicep and across the hard muscles of that gorgeous chest. God, Bucky loved this. No matter how many times he and Steve came together it always felt just as magical as that first nervous, thrilling encounter when he confessed his love and discovered it was returned in equal amount.

“Bucky…”

Careful not to let his amusement show, Bucky hid his smile in the bedding next to Steve’s head. The punk was always so damned impatient. Steve let out a frustrated huff and tugged at Bucky’s henley until it was clear of his body and then started on his own. When both shirts were banished somewhere on the floor, Steve lay back and a glimmer of metal shone in the dim light. A delicate chain draped across Steve’s collarbones, weighed down by a slender gold ring. Bucky let his fingertips skim across the ring, meant for a finger so much smaller than his own. Steve’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, one of his tells that he was nervous.

“She never promised me anything more than a conversation… but it feels right to wear it. Its hers the second she’s ready to claim it back.”

Tendrils of arctic air twisted around Bucky’s heart. He dropped his chin and let his hair fall in front of his eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“You should get her one too, Buck. Not your Ma’s, Becca’s family would have that. But a nice one all the same.”

He stopped breathing. Unaware of his lover’s imminent demise from lack of oxygen, Steve continued talking about rings, his hand stroking up and down Bucky’s flank in lazy loops. Maybe getting one made would be the way to go, Steve suggested. It’s more personal that way. Maybe T’Challa would have an idea?

 “I’m not making her choose, Steve,” said Bucky once air returned to his lungs. His voice didn’t shake, for which he was grateful. “It ain’t right,”

“Huh?” Steve’s eyebrows pulled together in that adorable frown Bucky had loved for nigh on a century. “Bucky, what are you- ,”

Bucky shifted until he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to Steve. It would be easier to talk about this without looking at him, without worrying that the pain he felt would be reflected in his features while he attempted to amputate a portion of his soul.

“What I’m saying is you and her were together first. Actually properly together, not a damned conversation in a torture chamber or at gun point. You… she… You both deserve to be happy. And I ain’t willing to come between that. You should be the one to marry her.”

He didn’t know what he expected to happen after his sacrificial announcement. Perhaps he expected Steve to object, to argue that Bucky should be the one to stand at the altar with their girl. Perhaps a part of him even hoped for it. To stand before the world and proclaim his everlasting love and devotion to the woman of his dreams, to be declared _hers_ in every way, to be able to call her _his_ in return… But no. He couldn’t. He couldn’t take that away from Steve, the best man ever to walk this Earth, he who deserved every happiness a thousand times and more. He would be fine. It would be okay, somehow. He would still be part of their world, still bound as soulmates, just not… not like _that_.

A sound somewhere between a cough and a snort came from behind him and then Steve’s arms were around him and Lily’s ring pressed into his shoulder. And then ever so gently, Steve’s body began to shake.

Bucky didn’t know what he expected to happen after his announcement but _laughter_ was not on the list.

He shoved Steve away and stood up, searching for his lost shirt so as to avoid eye contact.

“Fuck you, Steve, you don’t have to be fucking _cruel_ \- ,”

The poorly contained gurgles of laughter exploded out of Steve’s chest and Bucky risked a look up. Steve was grinning that big stupid grin, the one he always had on his big stupid face whenever Lily’d done something for them or he’d been sent a letter or he’d heard her on the radio. Bucky wanted to hate that grin but he didn’t have it in him. He loved it.

“Bucky…” Steve shook his head, his laughter trailing off to the occasional snort of air out of his nostrils. “Bucky I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be laughing. It’s just… you’re so _you_.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Bucky demanded. He found his shirt and yanked his arms through the sleeves. When he popped his head through the neckline, Steve was standing in front of him. The laughter had dimmed lower now and he cupped Bucky’s jaw with both hands to stare in his face, those blue eyes intense with passion and affection.

“It means, Bucky, my love. My heart. My soulmate. It means that you are an idiot. And I have no intention of letting you gallantly step aside in some misguided attempt to martyr yourself for my supposed happiness, _again_.”

When Bucky opened his mouth to object, Steve silenced him with a kiss hot enough to steal his air once more. Satisfied he had rendered the brunette mute, Steve’s hands didn’t leave Bucky’s jaw, pinning him in place as he delivered his ultimate blow before Bucky could recover his senses.

“Do you really think Lily would allow that either? Remember what she told you way back when… _It’s a good thing you boys learned how to share_ , she said. It’s the three of us together or none, Buck. We’ve waited too long and been through too much to settle for anything less.”

Steve’s thumbs brushed the tears that slipped down Bucky’s cheeks. His words were a tangled lump in his throat that refused to cooperate but it didn’t matter. He tilted his face until their foreheads joined, content to breathe Steve’s air until his body regained its gross motor functions. Then he repeated his earlier movement and shoved Steve backwards into the bed again. He might not have words to speak right now but he could still get his point across just fine.

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

An unfamiliar computerised voice woke them.

_Perimeter Hotel-Beta breached. Eight air transport units approaching. Stand by for further information._

The bedroom door slammed open. Sam stormed inside, tugging his tac vest on over his pyjamas.

“We’ve got incoming. Nat’s setting up on the roof. Looks like the UN found us.”

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

It was a nightmare. It had to be. There was no other explanation for it.

It was full of the stuff his subconscious routinely tortured him with, that was for certain. Time and thought became diaphanous, blurred with desperation and the burning need to shunt all his feelings aside to a hidden space in his soul. His body moved with instinct and muscle memory, his awareness heightened to the peak of their supernatural levels. He was a ghost in the field, ruthlessly destroying anyone who dared threaten him or his mate. Ross would not have Steve. Not while Bucky still breathed. He refused to think of how Ross had discovered their location, how he’d learned of Lily’s safe house. The possibilities were too awful to consider.

It was a nightmare.

It had to be.

Then terror like he had never known lit him up from the inside as Natasha’s cool voice snapped across their comm line.

“Field commander identified as Agent Lily Evergreen. Field commander approaching my location. Orders?”

No.

No, no, no.

Not her.

His brain glitched and he hesitated long enough for an enemy to get in a kick to his face. He grappled the soldier, bringing him down to the ground as another three enemies took his place. He wasn’t overwhelmed, not yet, but it was hard work and the soldiers just kept coming. Steve and Sam were across the other side of the vineyard fields attempting to clear a path to their hidden transport while he and Natasha distracted the bulk of the opposing force outside the main house.

“Steve? I need your orders,” Natasha’s voice was calm and steady and if Bucky was anyone else he could have imagined her asking what they wanted for dinner. Instead he was painfully aware she was asking Steve for permission to respond to the attack from their soulmate. Because their soulmate was attacking them.

God, what had she _done?_ What had-

A knife blade slid between the protective plates of his tac vest and Bucky grunted as pain pierced his side. Damn it. Distracted again. He responded in kind, half his attention still on the comm line as Steve weighed the lives of his lovers and his friends in his mind.

“Do what you need to do,” came the voice. It was steel dragging over gravel and just as heavy. “Just… just do what you can.”

“Steve,” he panted, blocking melee attacks from five enemies now. “Stevie, please, don’t- ,”

“Copy that, Captain,”

Shit.

_Shit!_

A squad of men armed with semi-automatics crested the slope leading up to the villa house. Bucky made short work of the remaining melee fighters then bolted around to take cover on the other side of the house. A spray of bullets pummelled the old stonework behind him as he ran, some so close he could feel the displacement of air as they skimmed his body. Above him came a series of crashes and a scatter of roof tiles fell to the earth and he realised Lily and Natasha were fighting up there. Agent Evergreen was fighting the Black Widow. His soulmate was fighting the woman he himself had trained to become a killing machine.

Without slowing his pace, Bucky jumped to the top of a window bracket and used the building’s uneven stonework to climb to the roof. A quick glance to the fields as he climbed showed Sam in the air above Steve, both men fighting their own swarms of black clad militants. They were no closer to the makeshift transport hanger than they had been last time he’d checked in but they were both alive and functional. With a final push, Bucky vaulted up onto the tiled roof just in time to duck an elbow from Natasha. Lily paused her attack. With her weight positioned on the balls of her feet, Lily stepped in a slow arc around the pair and observed, giving Bucky time to look her over in return. She was on high alert, her muscles primed and ready for a strike in a way that screamed experience and his trainer’s mind could see the strength she carried in each deliberate step. She wore head to toe standard black tac gear, and was weighed down by an arsenal of weaponry strapped to every available inch of space but her balance remained perfect. Her face was partially covered by an electronic device across her right ear and eye that flashed with blue projections and miniscule scrolling text, yet she was not distracted by it. No, her attention was very much fixed on them.

“Lily,” he called. “Please, love, don’t do this. Whateve- ,”

His plea was interrupted as Lily launched into an attack. Her fists and feet were lightning strikes, faster than he was prepared for, and before he could recover his wits she had landed more blows than he could block and he fell back. Natasha returned the favour and attempted to grab Lily into a hold, but Lily was just too damn fast. She dodged Natasha’s advance, dropped and swept Natasha’s feet from beneath her then once the Widow was on her back, Lily jammed her boot down on Nat’s throat. It all happened in the amount of time it took Bucky to straighten up and steady himself on the gently sloped roof tiles.

Bucky watched Nat’s face redden with the pressure on her neck. The Widow was strong and clever and experienced but even spiders need air. He licked his lips and looked up to meet Lily’s icy gaze.

“Let her go,” he demanded. “You don’t need her. Ross doesn’t care about her. You want me, right? Let her go and you can have me.”

In a movement so fast he couldn’t track it, Lily lifted her boot and kicked Natasha in the torso hard enough to roll to the edge of the roof and then beyond it. Lily didn’t break Bucky’s gaze as they stood and listened to the crashes and thumps as Nat’s body obeyed gravity and fell three stories to the ground. He wasn’t about to reprimand her for it though, not when her electronic device was flashing with text and she was stalking him like a lioness. His mind ran through his weapons and surroundings and came up with a list of possible strategies, all designed to minimise damage to Lily while maximising the distance he could put between them. He didn’t want to hurt her –not even knowing she had betrayed them to Ross could he hurt her– but he had to get out of here and get Steve to safety.

“Right, well… ,” he began. He shuffled along the rooftop, maintaining the distance between them. There was a chimney behind him with a ceramic crown and if he could just…

His fingers met the tile. He gripped and swung and released, hurling the ceramic at Lily’s head and forcing her to block. He took another step and launched himself from the roof, mimicking Natasha’s fall as he grabbed at window shutters and planters and the stones themselves to slow his descent. He was mostly upright when he landed with a thump of both legs and an arm before he kicked off and bolted away towards the fields.

“Steve, what’s your situation?” he called into his comm. “Steve!”

He skidded to a stop. Lily was in front of him, blocking the path between him and Steve. How was that even possible? How fast _was_ she?

“Doing fine,” came Steve’s clipped response. He was breathing hard. “Worry about yourself.”

Lily didn’t let Bucky reply. She lashed out in a blur of movement, fists and feet flying in a furious attack that left him backpedalling fast. At first he was too overcome with the sheer volume of blows to place the fighting style but then it came to him with a memory of another fiery brunette. This was Peggy Carter’s style, designed for smaller bodies facing larger opponents. It was dirty and direct with economy in movement and no hesitation when it came to using any part of the body as a weapon. Lily had obviously perfected the technique and with Zola’s enhancements she was landing more strikes than he could dodge or block. Her blows didn’t have the same weight as his or one of Steve’s but what they lacked in power they made up in number and he was taking a beating. He was forced to retreat further, well aware that Lily was backing him against the Villa house but unable to do anything about it.

Bucky spared another look towards the fields hoping to see any of his allies but the look cost him. Both of Lily’s feet drove into his chest and he was thrown backwards. He landed on dense wood and he heard it crack and splinter beneath his weight and the force of the kick and then he was falling down into darkness. She’d kicked him through the cellar doors.

He hadn’t even managed to get his feet beneath him before she was renewing their attack-block-retreat dance, only this time he had run out of space. The heel of his boot hit metal. He was up against one of the reinforced steel walls of the storage cellar with nowhere else to go. He raised his hands in surrender.

“You don’t have to do this,”

She moved much slower now, deliberately catching his eye. Her face was a mask of emptiness, her beautiful features void of all expression and bathed in the soft blue light of her visor. Both hands went to the small of her back and she withdrew two half-circles of thick metal. With a flick she threw them and when both his wrists smashed backwards into the steel wall behind him it became all too clear these strange objects were the electromagnetic restraints Steve had warned him about after the HYDRA elevator incident.

The villa was compromised. Steve and Sam were besieged. Natasha was MIA. Bucky was trapped in the cellar.

And Lily was drawing her sidearm.

“Please. Please don’t.”

Two shots spent two bullets and Bucky grit his teeth as pain burst through each of his thighs. He strained against the electromagnetic cuffs to no avail. They didn’t even budge.

“Lily,”

There was no way out, there was no angel coming to save him this time. This was it. He would die here.

A strange serenity came over him, numbing his fear and panic until only a dull resolution remained. He had lived a life far longer than he should have, stolen years through the death of others. He was a murderer, a killer, had been since before Zola took him. His hands dripped with the blood of his victims deep enough to drown in. He wanted to live… but he deserved to die. And if anyone was to kill him, who better than her?

He met her gaze. His eyelids drooped, knowing the end was close.

Her dark blue eyes shimmered in return. It was the only sign of emotion she gave.

“I love you, Lily,” he said. “Thank you for being my angel.”

Her lips moved but no air passed them to give the words sound. He could see them anyway.

_I’m sorry._

The third bullet hit his heart.

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

Steve had an agent in a headlock when his enhanced hearing picked it up through the UN soldier’s comms. It was Lily’s voice, flat and lifeless.

_-Target Winter Soldier neutralised-_

His mind blanked, any thought drowned with static. More voices came through the enemy comm line, whoops and cheers. The soldier in his grip struggled against the choke hold.

_-done it! She killed hi-_

_-knew she could beat him eve-_

_-ngage target Alpha-_

_-geant Barnes dead, go for Captai-_

No. No it couldn’t be. She couldn’t… she _couldn’t_ …

The tension in Steve’s arms went slack and the soldier took no time to free himself. He didn’t feel it when someone kicked the back of his knees out and he fell. He hit the ground but he was still falling, falling through nothing and everything until the void swallowed him whole and his only link to reality was one of betrayal and heartache.

_Lily… what have you done?_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My darlings. My wonderful, faithful friends. I'm so sorry.
> 
> Please don't grow dispirited. It will get better from here.


	27. Back in Wakanda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the confrontation in Calabria, the boys regroup in Wakanda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO! I heard you all loved that cliffhanger, that you were absolutely enraptured by the pain and angst of the last chapter. That you're hanging out for EVEN MORE PAIN. Gosh, you were practically SCREAMING at me to write more tragedy and heartbreak. Believe me, I would LOVE to help you out there by giving you more angst and awfulness and all, but unfortunately that just isn't the way this fic is going to go. 
> 
> I'm sorry peaches, there WILL be a revoltingly sweet and happy ending coming for these three. I just can't help it. I know, I know, you're disappointed. But bear with me anyway, you might enjoy the happy regardless.

 

* * *

 

 

 

He had been drugged.

He knew this because his body was sluggish and his thoughts disjointed. His mind refused to wake into the sharp consciousness HYDRA had instilled in him with terrible efficiency.

_\--How many shots will it take to put you down?--_

Something had happened. Something important.

_\--One will slow me.--_

He was warm and comfortable, lying on something soft that smelled of sandalwood and soap. He inhaled deeply, dragging the soothing smell through his nostrils while his thoughts battled the drug induced drowsiness.

_\--Three will knock me out.--_

Sandalwood and soap… and _Steve._ He was with Steve. He had been drugged… no, shot.

_\--And six?--_

Lily.

He remembered.

He had to get up.

He fought against the fog, swaying like a flag in a stiff breeze with the strength and functional capacity of a newborn giraffe. Through sheer stubbornness he managed to sit up by his own power and he realised he was in Steve’s and his bedroom back in their Wakandan apartment. There were voices conversing next door in the living room, Steve’s low hum instantly recognisable. The other… it was familiar too but he couldn’t yet place it, the fog was too heavy.

He swivelled on the bed, proud of the fact he had roused enough to multitask – hearing _plus_ semi-coordinated gross motor skills. It was quite the improvement.

_“You need to put it aside, Cap. Barnes is injured, Nat is long gone, Ross knows we ran back to Wakanda with our tails between our legs. You gotta focus, man, or we’re fried.”_

_“Sam, it’s not that easy. You know it’s not- ,”_

Sam. That’s right, that’s who that voice belonged to. With both feet now on the floor, Bucky listened further while he waited for the walls to stop spinning.

_“I didn’t say it was easy, Steve, I said it was necessary. Yes your soulmate sold you out. But you’re still alive and so is Barnes and if you get your head in the game you’ll both stay that way.”_

Steve moaned and there was a dull thunk. If Bucky had to guess, he’d put money on it that was the sound of Steve’s head hitting the nearest hard surface. He had to get moving again. They were talking about Lily and what she’d done. And knowing Steve, that big lump, he was thinking with his stupid heart instead of his stupid brain and the next thing out of his stupid mouth was probably going to be something equally stupid and-

_“Its my fault, Sam. Its my fault. I should have been there for her. I let her down, left her to Ross and Stark. It would have been easy to turn her against us, no one would blame- ,”_

“Bullshit!” Bucky stumbled and collapsed against the doorjamb between the bedroom and living area. An alarming number of colours spun in his peripheral vision, which he realised was not a great signal regarding his ongoing and future consciousness. “That’s fucking _bullshit_ , Steve. Lily wouldn’t turn on us! She told us to trust her!”

“Easier to do when she’s not leading a battalion against us,” Sam muttered into a coffee cup.

In a flash Steve jumped to his feet and was at Bucky’s side to support his weight. Bucky’s pride would have preferred to refuse the assistance but his knees were already giving out and he slumped against Steve’s hold. He let Steve steer him onto the couch near Sam’s armchair. Was that really their couch? It didn’t look familiar… Actually neither did that armchair… or the coffee table… Had their furniture been replaced?

“Bucky, what are you doing up? The doctors said you should sleep for hours longer than this.” Steve settled himself on the couch and pulled Bucky into his side.

He shook his head, his unbound hair flopping about his face. “Yer bein’ stupid, Stevie,” he said into Steve’s shoulder. “Gotta… I gotta…”

“Swear to _God_ ,” groaned Sam. Muttering to himself about old fools being the death of him he got to his feet and stalked towards the kitchen, waving his empty coffee cup for emphasis as he went.

“Lily’s always looked out for us,” Bucky mumbled. He relaxed further into Steve’s hold, using the rock that was his mate’s body to help anchor his whirling mind. “She loves us, Stevie.”

“How do you know she still feels that way? I abandoned her and I made you abandon her too. What if all of what she said was a lie to hand us over to Ross?”

 “It wasn’t. I know it wasn’t and I reckon you know it too. We gotta trust her. Something’s not right.”

 “What are you saying, Buck?”

“He’s saying that this whole thing feels off,” Sam declared, returning to place three full coffee cups on the low table in front of them. “That we need more information before we decide anything but there was definitely something else going down in Calabria.”

The three men sat in silence, each slowly sipping their coffee as they pondered. By the time he’d reached the end of his mug, the drug-induced fog in Bucky’s mind was thinning.

“It was my gun,”

When Steve and Sam looked at him with identical raised eyebrows Bucky realised that not only had he spoken aloud but that he needed to elaborate if he intended anyone else to follow his thought process.

“She shot me with the gun she took off me in DC. It was one of Shuri’s non-lethals. I remember telling Lily it would take three shots to put me down. She shot me three times. It was deliberate.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Steve shook his head. “Why bother knocking you out if she was just going to leave you there anyway?”

That was a good point. Another question they couldn’t answer.

“How did we escape anyway?” Bucky asked. “When I went down we were still swarmed.”

 Sam choked midway through a sip of his coffee. “Oh man. Let me tell you, it was beautiful. Nat waited for Lily to leave the cellar then found you. And also a rocket launcher. And considering Steve and I had already figured out that Ross’s men didn’t have authorisation to use lethal force on anyone but you…”

“That’d do it, I guess. So Natalia is…?” Bucky asked.

“Doing her own thing. She left a note.”

“Right,” Bucky nodded. The movement didn’t even make his head whirl which was significant progress. He focused on the pattern of the couch covering. It was definitely not the one they’d had last time he was there.

With a gentle push, Steve shifted Bucky’s weight to the arm of the couch then stood up. When he started to pace their living room, Bucky held his tongue. He watched Steve walk up and down, back and forth, his forehead creased and his thumb nail stuck between his teeth. Surprisingly, Sam didn’t interrupt either. Perhaps he knew too that this was Steve’s version of working on an idea.

“Natasha always plays her own game when we’re on missions. It drives me crazy. I give her orders and she obeys them just long enough to get her own mission done.”

Sam rolled his eyes and banged his mug down on the tabletop. “Really? You’re throwing shade _now?_ Come on, man- ,”

“No, wait,” Steve interrupted, coming to a halt. “That’s not what I’m getting at. What I’m saying is that I think Lily was doing that too, same as Nat. There was Ross’s op and then there was Lily’s. That’s why it felt off, because there were two different sets of directives.”

“Ross wants to kill me and capture you,” Bucky added. “Seems clear enough, we’ve known that for a while. Obviously Lily wanted something different because neither of us are dead or captured.”

“Spies, man. Fucking spies.”

Steve and Bucky ignored Sam’s comment. They stared at each other as thoughts ticked over in their minds, both coming to a conclusion at the same time.

“She’s positioning herself to go after Ross.” Bucky declared.

Steve nodded in agreement. His lips were a flat line of determination. “We’ve got to get back to the States.”

“That is literally the worst idea you’ve ever had and you’ve jumped out of a plane without a parachute,” said Sam. When both soldiers turned to face him, he held his hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying, man, that you two charging in there isn’t going to help as much as you think it will.”

Steve deflated and ran both hands through his hair to link his fingers behind his head. “Damn it, Sam, we can’t just sit here and do nothing! She’s taking on a whole country by herself!”

“Which she’s kind of done before am I right? Listen, if she’s trying to convince Ross that she’s his loyal pet super-soldier and that there’s nothing between the three of you then how’s it going to look if you turn up on her doorstep? Think about it. You’ll just be exposing her.”

“He’s right, Steve,”

“Bucky, what are you saying? That’s our girl! She’s out there on her own- ,”

There was a gentle chime that indicated someone at the apartment entrance before a click and a whir, and the door flew open to bang against the wall.

“She’s not on her own,” said a familiar voice.  

Flawless as ever in his Tom Ford suit with his eyes concealed behind red tinted glasses, Tony Stark swanned into the lounge room and executed a flourishing bow.

“She has me.”

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

[A cafe in Rome](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/cd/59/6b/cd596b4a349fb93cb3153d2c3eaf0826.jpg)

 

 

 

Lily Evergreen had been sitting in that spot for two hours now. She’d chosen the corner table of an outdoor café with a short potted plant and an ivy creeper to conceal her should she want to hide and sight lines down both of the little Roman alleyways that bordered the establishment. She chatted with the café staff, speaking Italian with a clear American accent but familiar enough with vocabulary to carry a fluent conversation. She was dressed casually in the elegant flowing white that locals favoured, complete with sunglasses and a broad-brimmed hat. She read the city newspaper, gently flicking each page as if she had all the time in the world. If she was waiting for someone, she didn’t show it.

Natasha knew she would not get any further information from the Agent unless she approached. She spent another ten minutes deliberating, then made up her mind to take the risk. She was confident in her abilities to evade Evergreen should things go awry and the backstreets of Rome were familiar to her. With a final check to make sure her weapons remained concealed, Natasha strode over to the café. She waited for some kind of reaction to her sudden presence, however Evergreen gave her nothing but a soft smile that was most certainly faked. Her eyes were hidden behind the oversized lenses she wore, obstructing the opportunity for Natasha to fully utilise her infamous people-reading abilities. A curl of something akin to respect began to blossom.

“Good morning, Ms Romanoff. _Prendiamo un caffè?_ _”_

Evergreen signalled to the waiter and held up two fingers. The waiter nodded and disappeared behind the counter.

“Good morning, Ms Evergreen. You’re not surprised to see me.”

“An accurate assessment. Something on your mind?”

Evergreen wasn’t lying, which was interesting. That meant she’d planned for Natasha to hunt her down following the fiasco in Calabria. Possible motives flickered like a reel in her mind as she simultaneously conjured and dismissed theories by the dozen.

“I want you to tell me why you lured your soulmates into an ambush and then attacked them.”

It was true. Natasha did want to know that. She also wanted to learn more about this mysterious new player in town and why everyone seemed convinced she was harmless when it was blatantly obvious Agent Evergreen was anything but. Well, obvious to Natasha anyway. It was like the entire world had agreed to completely disregard the fundamental facts of Evergreen’s career. She was a senior member of the notorious SSR project. She was the _Nachtblüte_ , the woman feared by an entire regime for her deviousness and evasive capabilities. She was _openly known to be a spy to the point where they gave her a medal for it_. Yet she smiled and waved to a camera and spouted some nonsense about freedom and the people swallowed down her ‘wholesome old fashioned goodness’ without a thought. It was worse than what used to happen with Steve – he at least wasn’t historically recorded as _working_ _for years as a spy_.

The waiter returned with two glass _demitasse_ in silver frames and saucers, which he set before each of the women. Evergreen sent him off with a wide smile and a hearty _grazie mille_. He turned back to look at her twice on the return to his station, then positioned himself where he could occasionally fawn in her direction without being too blatant. Except, of course, both Natasha and Evergreen knew what he was doing. Evergreen smiled and lifted her espresso to her red lips. Her lipstick was of high enough quality to not smear on the glass. Natasha narrowed it down to two possible brands before she discarded the train of thought as superfluous.

“There were several reasons,” Evergreen said, picking up from Natasha’s earlier question. “One of which is that I wanted your attention.”

Honesty. That was new. Natasha ignored the espresso Evergreen had procured for her. She didn’t think it was poisoned, she just didn’t want to accept it.

“Why?” Natasha asked. She wondered how long the honesty would continue. Not long, in her experience. People discarded honesty as a tactic as soon as it ceased its effectiveness and Natasha wasn’t feeling particularly charitable.

“I need to you to shoot someone for me.”

Well. That was certainly honest. Natasha hid her surprise but she acknowledged it was there which was nice in its own way. She wasn’t often surprised by people.

“An assassination,” Natasha clarified.

Evergreen nodded. “One gun. One bullet. One shot.”

“And instead of asking your mates -both experienced soldiers and one of them the greatest assassin in the world- you’re asking me because…?”

She expected an embarrassed evasion or possibly flattery. That was usually how it went when people wanted her to do something for them. Again Evergreen surprised her with her chilled, practical response. It almost took her back to the pragmatically cruel matrons in the Red Room.

“Because men are too easily compromised by their emotions. There will be only one chance to make this shot and it will be in difficult circumstances. I need you.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. It was more expression than she would usually give but she deemed the situation worthy of it.

“And why would I help you?” she asked, genuine in her question. What possible reason could Evergreen have to request the assistance of someone she threw off a roof the day before? If it had anything to do with ‘the good of the world’ or ‘the right thing to do’, Natasha would laugh in her face. Until Evergreen could prove she wasn’t a puppet for the UN and Ross, it would be madness for Natasha to accept any offer that came. If she wasn’t so curious, she’d stand up and walk away right now.

Lily took another sip of coffee then returned her cup on its saucer. She hooked her fingers around the arm of her sunglasses, removed them, folded them and placed them next to her cup.

“Clint Barton never signed the Sokovia Accords did he?”

The Black Widow was a blank mask, a deadly mannequin masquerading in human form. Decades had been spent moulding her into the most perfect form a woman could achieve, giving her complete and utter control over every facet of the weapon that was her body. Her face did what she told it to, when she told it to, and nothing else. The Black Widow had no weak points, no hidden angles an enemy could press and exploit. No weak points… except one. Because ever since that day in Russia when an idiotic archer made a different call, The Black Widow _owed_ someone. And after a while, _owed_ turned into _admired_ and then even so far as to turn into _loved_.

Evergreen was still talking.

“He claims to have retired. Living on a farm, whittling and swinging a porch swing, apparently. Only to me, The Amazing Hawkeye doesn’t seem the sort of man to retire early. Too interested in… _making waves,_ as it were. You know, _rocking the boat._ ”

“You know where he is," Natasha stated.

“I do.”

“Does Ross?”

Agent Natasha Romanoff of Strike Team Delta felt the flutter of fear simmer in her guts as she waited for Evergreen to respond. Her face disobeyed her, revealing micro-expressions of unease and fear. If Evergreen spotted them, she didn’t show it.

“That depends.”

Natasha examined Evergreen’s face. It was a beautiful face, artfully crafted to send messages of warmth and honesty and fidelity. Natasha discarded that layer, searching deeper. Without her sunglasses in the way, which was a deliberate move on Evergreen’s part and one Natasha begrudgingly respected, Natasha was free to inspect all she wished. Evergreen waited, calmly meeting Natasha’s gaze for the duration. She was confident, that was easy to see. She knew that Barton was Natasha’s Achilles heel and she pressed it. The real question was whether or not Evergreen would out Barton to Ross if Natasha refused to accept her assignment. Was she the sort of person who would use every practical avenue to achieve her goals? The public’s perception of Lily Evergreen would reject the idea immediately – Evergreen was _good_ , she would _never_ sacrifice someone just to get her way. Natasha, however, had read the German reports of the _Nachtblüte_ , she’d seen how ruthless this woman could be in pursuit of her agenda.

Natasha picked up her now cooled coffee and took a sip.

“Let’s discuss terms.”

Lily Evergreen smiled.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did that help?


	28. Wakanda, MoMa and Lily's Office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So... there's a lot going on in this chapter. Anyone ready to yell at Ross? Cos Darcy sure is...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello beautiful people! 
> 
> Have I got a present for you or what? Here, have a snarky ex-pararescue airman! And a ridiculously adorable ninety seven year old! And Darcy duking it out with our favourite Secretary of State! Please, take these gifts and enjoy.
> 
> All my love, precious peaches.
> 
> -Rubie

 

* * *

 

 

Four men filled the living area of Steve and Barnes’ modest Wakandan apartment. Two were standing -Tony Stark, who had just executed a dramatic entrance an operatic diva would be jealous of, and Steve, who had frozen like a wounded gazelle on the Serengeti. One -Barnes- was trying to merge into the sofa as though he were some sort of gelatinous fluid and not two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle and vibranium. And one particularly handsome and attractive specimen of mankind -himself, naturally- didn’t break the line of sight as he ever so slowly reached down to the side of his armchair where he’d left his bowl of potato chips from earlier.

“Tony. What are you doing here?” asked Steve. His arms hung loose by his sides like he’d lost all function below his shoulder socket.

Stark smirked at Steve. Or maybe just looked in Steve’s direction with his generic facial expression which just happened to be an asshole smirk the size of Wisconsin.

“And a warm hello to you too, Rogers. Just popping by the neighbourhood, thought I’d say hi, drop off a fruit basket. What the fuck do you think I’m doing here? Lily sent me.”

Steve blanched. “What’s happened? Where is she? Is she okay?”

Yep, there it was. Immediate overreaction to an imagined threat of a loved one. The Steve Rogers special. Sam crunched on a potato chip and flicked a glance over to Barnes, waiting for Thing 2 to chime in with a murder-hobo glare and a threat of bodily harm. Surprisingly, Barnes did neither and continued his attempt to become one with the furniture.

Stark flicked his sleeve clear and looked down at his obnoxiously high tech watch. “By my count she’s just about to arrive for dinner at the White House with Matthew Ellis and his wife. Prior commitment. You know how it is.”

Ouch, ditched and replaced by the Leader of the Free World. That’d hurt. But damn, crazy spy girl got herself some _connections_. Sam shovelled in another handful of chips, not giving a single shit about how loud he crunched them. Steve’s entire person was focused on Stark anyway and if Bucky was going to comment he’d have to extract his nervous system from the couch cushions first.

“So you’re here because…?”

“Well, duh, I’m here to tell you the plan. You know, the saving the world and also your asses plan?”

Oh hell no.

Uh-uh.

Sam thunked the bowl of chips on the coffee table then leaned back to cross his arms in a way that he knew made his biceps look _tight_. “You want to tell me why you think you get to come slinking in this house asking for favours after you and your sister just got us all shot at by a fucking army? Forgive me if I’m not feeling too trusting at the moment. Steve, tell his asshole to launch his skinny ass back in the air and get the fuck out of town.”

He knew Steve wouldn’t. No _way_ would Steve tell Stark to get lost, not if Stark said he was here on some mission for little miss über-agent, the mysterious soulmate who reappeared out of nowhere with apparently forgivable homicidal tendencies. No shit, this girl was super soldier kryptonite. However Sam wasn’t about to just roll over and show his belly to Stark for no reason, that’s for damn sure.

“Are you serious? **_You_** don’t trust **_me_**?” Stark grabbed his glasses off his face and shoved them inside his fancy jacket pocket. Yep, Sam had pissed him off. “Let’s make a list. First of all, _I’m_ not the international fugitive here, neither am I an enemy assassin nor wanted for treason.” Stark shifted his glare to Steve, who flinched beneath the raw fury emanating from the older man. “Also, **_I_** didn’t lie to my friend and cover up the murder of their parents. No. Instead, **_I_ ** was the one who brought your soulmate back, kept her alive when she would have died and kept her from going insane with grief, neither of which are things that _you_ did because you _weren’t fucking there_. _”_

“Okay that’s- ,” Steve started.

“She nearly died?” Barnes, in a shining moment of actual personhood, spoke without being directly spoken to. The rarity of the event plus the sheer amount of gut-wrenching emotion captured in three words made Sam’s jaw drop like it had been tied to an anvil.

Apparently not even Tony Stark was immune to the effect of Barnes-level brokenness. The angry tension in his shoulders loosened and he slid a hand across his face before answering.

“Yeah. Time travel, it’s dangerous. She went from Zola’s torture rack, to being shot, to being held at knife point, to being blown up in a warehouse explosion all in under an hour. You know how many times her heart stopped on the way to our safehouse? Cos I sure as hell do. And let me tell you right now, an extra pair of hands keeping her alive would have been appreciated.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sam muttered.

“No, Tony Stark,” snapped the genius. Now Sam had recaptured his attention, Stark’s jerk-o-meter shot back up. “Secondly, _Feathers_ , Lily just saved all your asses, _again_.”

“She hand delivered eight teams of UN soldiers to the safehouse _she sent us to_!”

“You’re actually serious aren’t you? Holy shit, use your brain! If Lily wanted you dead, you’d be dead, and she wouldn’t need eight teams to do it!”

Sam’s scathing retort was cut off by a signal from Steve. He was right, getting into a slinging match now would serve no purpose so Sam bit his tongue and shut up. Also, they must have slipped into Bizzaro-World because _he_ was the one being told not to aggravate the situation by Steve _My-Brain-Turns-Off-When-I-Feel-Things_ Rogers. The ensuing silence was deafening, an unapproachable gulf that only widened with each passing tick of the clock. Then to the surprise of everyone present, possibly to the inclusion of the man himself, Barnes spoke up again.

“If she really wanted to kill me and capture Steve, there are a dozen ways she could have approached it that make a lot more sense. We already trusted her and would have walked right into any trap she set up. A head on confrontation was poor strategy. The worst one possible, actually.”

Steve stared at him for a long time and Sam could see the thoughts rolling around in that over-enhanced mind.

“She was an infiltrator. Small ops. Covert. She’d never go for a purely frontal assault if she didn’t have the upper hand, and in Calabria she knew she was going up against two super soldiers, Falcon and the black widow. She set that operation up to fail.”

Stark threw his hands up in the air. “Finally. Welcome aboard the lucid people train, great to have you along.”

“So why did she do it? Are we meant to believe it was part of some grand plan?” asked Sam. He got to his feet to stand shoulder to shoulder next to Steve. It was pure posturing but Sam didn’t care. If Stark wanted to take them on, he’d have to take them all and if Steve and Bucky weren’t able to think rationally about their soulmate he’d do it for them.

“Yes you are, because it is. Look, we all knew Ross was coming for you. It was just a matter of time. Lily made sure she got ahead of the curve and was in a position to control the variables. She sent you to Calabria because it was a good place to defend. Did you find the weapons she stashed? The security alert system? Did you notice the sight lines she had cleared?”

“Why couldn’t she just tell us?”

“Because Ross was riding her ass and she had to play her part or risk it all going to hell. This was a test. That sick bastard sent her after her soulmates and watched every fucking second of it.”

Barnes leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and dropping his head low. “The thing on her face. The visor. She was under surveillance the whole time.”

“Got it in one. She was Ross’s personal audio-visual link to the entire operation. He heard every word, saw every strike. And then he watched Lily kill the Winter Soldier and turn Captain America into a grieving vegetable. By the way, the international warrants for your arrests have been revoked because Ross gleefully provided irrefutable evidence that you are officially dead or incapacitated. _She_ did that, at the low low cost of her fucking sanity. You’re welcome.”

Goddamn.

That was messed up.

“Dude, that is _messed up_ ,” Sam said with genuine feeling. “What kind of sociopathic asshole makes- ,”

“So what now?” asked Steve, cutting Sam off before he could build up steam.

“Now, gentlemen, we all pretend we’re grown-ups and agree to put aside our differences for the common good. And then I introduce you to Operation Yoko.”

 

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

[Charity Gala at Moma](http://www.greatperformances.com/ee_uploads/channel_images/192/moma4__slideshow.jpg)

 

The New York Museum of Modern Art spoke to Pepper. It resonated with the perfectionist in her. Clean lines, sleek silhouettes. The message of a hundred brushstrokes replaced by a single, perfect movement. What others may see as cold or clinical, Pepper saw as clear and unblemished. Economy of action, created by thoughtful, delicate precision. It was why she chose the museum as tonight’s location. The Carter Phillips Foundation’s Inaugural Charity Auction was the most prestigious good will event of the New York season (with the exception of the Maria Stark Foundation Gala, of course) and the culmination of months of planning distilled to this single night. And because it was Pepper’s baby, it would be perfect.

When Agent Evergreen asked her to personally oversee the burgeoning Foundation’s operations, Pepper was astounded. That Lily had been awake in the twenty first century for only a matter of weeks and yet had already developed an opinion of her abilities, a _positive_ opinion, well. That was beyond gratifying. Lily’s faith in her work alone would have had guaranteed her dedication but then Pepper was introduced to the initial organiser of the Foundation, Martin McNamara, and the deal was sealed. How a ninety seven year old man could power through endless events and interviews with such determination and drive to help his fellow veterans and their families… it was inspiring.

A wave of a hand caught Pepper’s attention and she moved over to where Lillian McNamara had positioned her father’s wheelchair amidst a collection of a dozen distinguished gentlemen. Marty’s body was tired, she could tell, but his eyes were bright and engaged as usual.

“Ah there you are, Virginia,” Marty smiled. “Dear girl, come meet my friends here. They’re all wanting to meet the remarkable woman responsible for tonight’s success.”

“You are too kind, Mr McNamara. Credit should be laid at _your_ feet, as well you know. Don’t try to escape it now!”

Marty chuckled and pat her hand, his swollen arthritic knuckles in stark contrast to her smooth skin. The gathered gentlemen also chuckled and Pepper swept her gaze across them, internally matching names to their faces. Several current congressman, three highly ranked retired servicemen, a couple of well-placed government officials, a prominent veteran affairs lobbyist. Marty had scooped quite the assembly. Another pat of her hand and Pepper’s attention turned back to her friend.

“Virginia, dear, I’m afraid I need to ask your help. You see Congressman Douglass here was asking after the protocols for making a significant donation to the Foundation and then my good friend General Barstow suggested he wished to match it. Then Jarryd and Ponting,” Marty indicated one of the officials and the lobbyist, “decided _they_ wished to match it as well and we aren’t sure if it would be more appropriate to have one extremely large donation or several significant ones?”

Pepper blinked, thinking on her feet. The collection of important men all looked to her with polite consideration.

“Well,” Pepper began. “I’m sure our accounting division would be happy to discuss any arrangements with your people at your convenience, gentlemen. Might I say, the well deserving families the Foundation support will benefit greatly from your generosity. Thank you.”

Congressman Douglass nodded his head in the direction of his fellows. “Each of us here are veterans, Ms Potts, we understand what it is to sacrifice for our country. We know the price of freedom. Believe me when I say we are friends of the Foundation.”

With a tilt of his wine glass, General Barstow saluted his peer. He settled his gaze on Marty. “Friends, Mac. And allies.”

Marty smiled and lifted his own glass.

“Allies.”

  

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

Something hard struck the wall outside and then Agent Lily Evergreen's office doors slid open to reveal Secretary Ross. He was furious, his face blotched red and the bristles of his moustache stuck out at odd angles. His shirt was wrinkled, his tie unkempt and he had forgotten his suit jacket entirely in his rage. Darcy paused the vision on her tablet and calmly placed it in her desk drawer before she leaned back in her chair and gave her attention to her guest.

“What madness is this?” Ross bellowed, thrusting a handful of papers towards her. “What have you done?”

Darcy smiled, an unpleasant baring of her teeth. Her gloves were off and she no longer needed to conceal her strength. If Ross was a wise man he would see the viper in his midst but it had already been determined that Ross was not a wise man.

“I have officially tendered my resignation, Secretary. President Ellis was kind enough to accept it last night, effective immediately,”

Ross smashed his fist full of documents on the desk. “You are a member of the United States Armed Forces! You willingly signed a contract binding yourself to my division! You think you can weasel out of it? Throw enough Stark money at the right people to get away with turning coward and betraying your country?”

“I have done nothing of the sort. My contract explicitly stated that I can resign from service at any such time I feel ethically compelled to and have enough evidence to support my claim.” Darcy paused for effect, then continued. “You tried to manipulate me. You made my attack my own soulmates, Thaddeus. Matthew saw the video and heard your orders. I’m done.”

“You’re a foolish little girl playing at a man’s game,” Ross sneered. “You think you’re special? You’re nothing. I would have you kill a hundred soulmates if it kept those super powered freaks out of my country. Sacrificing you would be the easiest decision I ever made.”

“Careful, Thaddeus. You’re beginning to sound like a certain snake-headed fascist cult.”

“HYDRA were wrong about a lot of things but not this. This country needs to be _cleansed_.”

Slowly, Darcy rose to her feet. Ross’s eyes tracked her like a laser as she stepped out from behind her desk and approached him. She was not afraid of this man and her confident, easy movements showed it. Her stomach twisted in revulsion when his eyes dropped to her chest before returning to her face.

“And what would President Ellis have to say about that?” she asked.

Ross scoffed. “You think that weakling knows anything about the real world? He’s soft. He doesn’t have what it takes to make the decisions that need to be made.”

“And you do?”

“I can and I have. I’ve already protected us from hundreds, thousands of abominations who dared to think they could hide in the masses and pretend to be normal people. You think Ellis has the balls to pull the trigger when it needs to be pulled?”

Another twist of revulsion came and she didn’t bother to hide it in her expression.

“You’re not protecting innocents. You’re murdering them.”

“Innocents! Ha! Mutants and freaks! There is no place in civilised society for monstrosities like them,” Ross slashed his arm for emphasis as though he could physically wipe out a section of the population with the strength of his belief.

“And the others? The ones whose physical body lay within your narrowminded boundaries of ‘normal’ yet who disagree with your disgusting lack of ethics and morality?”

Ross stepped in to her personal space, his face mere inches away from hers. His hands fisted tight, one raised to just below her chin.

“I do what I do for the good of my country and I will not stand here and listen to you blather in ignorance of what the real world contains. Because let me tell you, little girl, the real world is a lot colder than you know. The dissenters are traitors. Those normal people you claim to simply _disagree_ are putting people’s lives at risk because they refuse to see the truth. The abominations need to be put in their place. They’re not _real people_ , Lily, not like you and me. You can’t measure an animals life with the same weight as a human’s.”

“You forget, Thaddeus. Thanks to that pesky super serum, I’m not like you at all. I’m one of those animals.”

Ross stepped back as though he had been struck, shock clear on his face. He blinked it away, and his eyes narrowed again.

“Then it’s a damn good thing you’re on a leash,” he growled. “And no matter what Ellis may say about it, Lily, _you are mine._ And I have no intention of letting you run free.”

With that final volley, Ross snarled and turned on his heel to stride from the office. The tension in the air went with him, leaving Darcy with space to breathe again. She wasn’t afraid of Ross in a physical sense because of course she was stronger and more capable then him but there were other ways that could have gone badly. Could still go badly, if she slipped up. Terribly, in fact.

No, she wasn't going to think like that. She had made it this far, she would keep going. And then her people could be safe again.

“FRIDAY did you get that?” she asked her ever present AI.

“Yes, ma’am. Every word.”

“Call Maria. Let’s get this ball rolling.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Operation Yoko is a go. Repeat, Yoko is a go-go.


	29. Introducing Operation Yoko

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony introduces the boys to Operation Yoko

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> Long time no see, almost three weeks. I'm super sorry about the wait. My dad had a heart attack... so yeah.  
> BUT  
> I'm back now, and I offer you this lengthy chapter in apology, with extra Sam Wilson to really sweeten the deal.
> 
> All my love  
> -Rubie
> 
> PS: Just so you don't have to go hunting back through previous chapters, Darcy's Words are   
> "Please. Don't leave me again"   
> and   
> “You… you can’t save me, doll… They’ve held me for too long… I’m dyin"
> 
> So yeah, super happy fun times.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“ _Name and number_ , _Nachtblüte_.”

_“F-f-fuck… you,”_

_The lightning came again and her body launched upwards, tethered to earth only by the hateful leather straps that held her at his mercy._

_“Name and number, Schatz. Sing for me. Let me hear that sweet voice the American boys love so.”_

_She squeezed her eyes shut and clamped her still-twitching jaw, commanding her body to listen to her this time. There had been times where it had disobeyed her, willing to sacrifice any shred of her dignity or honor if it would end the pain for even a moment, yet still she fought when she could manage it. She would not go gentle into that good night._

_Two white hot spears pierced her broken flesh, one on her right hip, the other beneath her left breast. A vague prayer flitted through her mind, the hope that Zola had pierced her lung or something equally as vital and she would finally,_ finally ** _,_** _be allowed to die._

_“You disappoint me, Schatz. Did you disappoint them also? Your soulmates? Your Words would have me believe it. Are they both dead or just the one?”_

_She screamed as the knives twisted inside her._

“ _Name and number, tell me now_.”

_“Evergreen… Never-white… Seldom red…”_

_She screamed._

 

It was the pain that woke her. It was always the pain that woke her. The phantom kiss of a blade, the quivering aftershocks of electrocution. The hum of the monster’s machines, belching their poisons into her veins.

A low beep came from the speakers in the wall above her.

“Good morning, Agent Evergreen. Your vital signs are registering you may be in distress. Shall I contact the boss?”

“No,” she croaked, flicking her eyes open and forcing them to focus on her surroundings. “No thank you, Friday. I’m fine.”

Her bed was soft. Huge and soft and warm. It was nothing like the frozen slab in that workshop in the Austrian mountains, the one that only warmed when she leaked vital fluids on it and it grew sticky with old blood. Her pyjamas, the red silk ones monogrammed _T.S._ , swept over her skin like a loving caress as she shifted and got to her feet. Warm instead of cold, soft instead of hard, it didn’t matter. She couldn’t stand the thought of lying prone a second longer. The invisible straps were too tight across her chest.

“Friday, have you heard from Marty since the gala?” she asked, determined to switch her enhanced mind from the tormented black hole of too-clear memories to her self-appointed mission.

“Yes, ma’am. He has eighteen new names for the list.”

“Send them to Maria, please, Friday. Ask her to have the Canadians check our latest list against their records, see if there are any more cross-overs we can use.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Moving, showering, dressing. One foot led the other, a stumbling trek to restore a semblance of her humanity.

Breakfast meant nutrients, strength. Fluids meant hydration, health.

Talking, smiling, laughing, encouraging. Loyalties won and confidences granted. Her plans would move forward.

She had a job to do.

She checked her watch, a flashy gold and diamond thing Pepper found for her and so unlike the little silver one she used to wear. The little silver one had been smashed against a concrete gutter in Brooklyn when she’d shoved a sweet blonde boy out of the path of a truck and upended her entire world. When was that? 1941. Three years ago. No. Seventy six years ago.

Time was her enemy. She never had enough, except she had far too much.

Darcy’s heels clicked as she moved into her immaculate, state of the art and barely used kitchen. It would look perfect on a magazine cover. She fetched herself a pretty green bottle from the fridge and a wine glass from the sink. Was it bitter of her to hate crystal? She pondered the thought as she poured her wine. Balancing the glass by its narrow stem, she swirled the liquid inside it and wished it was tin.

An hour later and Darcy again refilled her glass, then slid the emptied bottle along the counter top to join its brothers, a trio of empty soldiers awaiting collection and disposal. She could relate. Last week Tony sent her a dozen cases of Pol Rogers’ latest release of their signature _Sir Winston Churchill_ _Brut_ because he was an asshole and thought sending her a champagne referencing the famous war minister made by a family of Rogers was hysterical. The joke was on him, though – the wine was lovely, and had seen her through the aftermath of more than one nightmare, waking or otherwise. Yes, it was expensive enough to school a family of orphans for a year. It also provided a disguise for the shaking of her hands and the tears that blurred her vision and the pale tint to her skin that no makeup could hide and that, quite frankly, was priceless. She had a job to do, after all.

“Listen, you won’t hear any judgement from me. But it’s a bit early isn’t it? What time is it over there? Ten?”

Darcy smiled at the sound and turned to the source of the voice, a fifteen inch hologram of her brother that had appeared uninvited and unannounced on her kitchen island. Tony Stark had no use for personal boundaries or privacy constraints. She’d say he was lucky that she was already dressed but knowing Tony he wouldn’t care whatever she was or wasn’t wearing.

“Super soldier, remember? I put the _fun_ in functional alcoholic.”

The tiny Tony angled his head to the side. “Thought my prior demonstrations of liquor-related dependencies were effective deterrents but I guess I’ll have to work harder. Challenge accepted, _sorellina_.”

“Was there something you wanted, _fratellino_ , or were you just missing me?”

“Always, cookie. But you’re right, there is something I want. Tell me again how you really do need me to go through with this plan, convince me it will be worth it. Because right now all I want to do is punch a certain disgraced national icon in the face, spit on a former POW and tell their friends to go fuck themselves, royalty included. Huh. I guess I could tell them to get _royally_ fucked then, couldn’t I?”

Darcy hid her grin behind her wine glass. “You do remember that said national icon and POW are my soulmates and I care about them, yes? That I’ve spent years literally dedicating myself to their health and well-being?”

“Unfortunately, I’m unable to forget. Honestly, that Jenny Cyprus movie scarred me for life.”

“Tony…” Darcy began. She moved closer to the hologram and angled her face towards the camera she knew Tony had hidden underneath one of the upper cabinets before he left for Wakanda. Super spy, her brother was not. “I can’t tell you what to do or how to feel, no one has that right. HYDRA used Bucky to murder your parents and Steve chose to lie about it. If you're not ready to move past that, now or ever, I won’t blame you. I know you agreed to do this but if it’s too much, come home. I won’t love you any less, little brother.”

“Oh my _God_ ,” groaned Tony. His hologram scrubbed both hands across his beard and he tilted his face skywards. “Why do you have to be so fucking _good?_ Just… can’t you be a jerk or something just once? Kick some puppies, knock over an old lady! Something! Ugh!”

“What?”

“Fine. _Fine!_ Jesus! I love you too, bye, whatever.”

The little hologram flickered out of existence a fraction of a second before Darcy burst out in a rush of snorted laughter. Honestly, her brother was such a drama queen.

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

 

_Tink._

_Tink. P’Tink._

_P’Tink. Tink. Tink._

 

Bucky glared his hardest, meanest glare at the obnoxious man he was forced to be civil to and the equally obnoxious ceramic bowl on his lap. He was a legendary assassin groomed in evil and darkness, his lethal reputation the very stuff of nightmares, and once upon a time even a glance from him had made men wet themselves in terror. Not this man though. Which was only natural, Bucky supposed, when said man had born witness to as many teary, post-anxiety attack, snot-nosed comedowns as he had. Still, it was a loss Bucky mourned – at this moment particularly.

“M&M?” grinned a smug-faced Sam, completely immune to Bucky’s glare. He jangled the hated bowl in Bucky’s direction, making the candy-coated monstrosities ping around the ceramic edges like tiny ricocheting bullets. When Bucky ignored him, Sam shrugged and rescinded his offer. He leaned back in his chair and lifted his boots to rest on the edge of the conference table they sat at.

“Pretty sure Steve’d appreciate you taking this seriously,” Bucky growled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“ _Steve’d_ appreciate it, huh?”

_Tink tink tink._ The candy rattled in its bowl as Sam took another handful, tilted his head back and poured it into his face. Bucky was silent, watching through narrowed eyes and calculating how quickly he could kill a man using only dinnerware. He was pretty sure he’d done it before.

“Let me tell you something about _taking things seriously_ ,” Sam garbled through a mouthful of chocolate. He swallowed, then continued. “Three years ago I was a retired pararescue working as a fucking counsellor and the most exciting thing I had to deal on a daily basis with was choosing chicken or pork in my frozen dinner-for-one. Now my day-to-day consists of dealing with world leaders, terrorists, aliens, billionaires, geniuses, international spies and assassins. And let me tell you, dude, when this shit goes south -which it probably will- the first casualties won’t be people whose files contain the word _super_ in any category and will instead consist of their outlying friends and allies who, handsome and amazing as they may be, are only human. And yet I’m still here, doing what I do and making sure you supers don’t fuck yourselves up too badly. So how’s that for taking things seriously?”

Bucky wasn’t sure how to respond to that. It was a good point.

The double glass doors to the conference room swished open and Stark entered, followed closely by Steve and T’Challa. The trio wasted no time in sitting down, arranging themselves with Stark on one side of the table, T’Challa at the head, and Steve sitting himself between Sam and Bucky on the other side. Sam, Bucky was pleased to note, pulled his feet from the table and replaced them with his evil bowl, granting Bucky’s nerves a welcome reprieve.

“Gentlemen,” began T’Challa. “It seems we have matters to discuss.”

Stark snorted. He placed a sturdy black briefcase on the table next to him, pulled up some kind of holographic display from a device on his wrist and began manipulating the glowing blue images.

“Yeah, let’s all band together and decide the colours of this year’s homecoming theme shall we? No big deal, only the freedom of the planet and all its citizens, including everyone at this table and their loved ones, who may or may not be directly in the firing line.”

The muscles of Steve’s jaw ticked. Sam retrieved his candy, sending a wink to Bucky as he did.

Proving himself the eminent politician he was praised to be, T’Challa didn’t rise to Stark’s bait. He inclined his head in silent acknowledgement and motioned with his hand to give Stark the floor. With a casual flick of the billionaire’s fingertips three distinct displays shot from his wrist device and onto the centre of the conference table, scrolling through data lists and images too fast to catch. The tablets stationed in front of each of them flashed with the same data and Bucky picked his up to read while Stark continued, noticing Sam doing the same.

“Right. Here we go, Operation Yoko and its adjoining campaigns. You’ll notice your names have been added to their corresponding operation based on where Lily saw you would be most effective.”

A strangled cough came from next to him and Bucky twisted his head to see Sam spluttering. Specks of half chewed chocolate flew across the table which everyone duly ignored while Sam pounded on his own chest and heaved in gasping breaths. Bucky hoped Sam aspirated at least a tiny bit. Maybe having chocolate lodged in his lungs would be an effective deterrent.

“Operation _Glittering Eyepatch?_ Operation _Brass Balls?”_ Sam wheezed.

Tony grinned, showing his teeth. “Lily chose the names. You’re a smart guy, you’ll figure out why eventually.”

A polite cough brought their attention back to T’Challa.

“Perhaps we should begin with an overview before we move on to specifics?” the king asked.

“Right you are, your Majesterialness,” said Stark. A few waves of his hand had the holographic displays flicking through images of Lily, Secretary Ross, current global politicians, all the superheroes once known as the Avengers plus several others Bucky didn’t recognise. Tony waited until he was sure all eyes were on him, then began.

“I’m sure it’s no surprise to learn that the past few months since Lily’s return have not been spent idly. Research, gathering allies and intel, setting up failsafe’s and fall back points, building bridges publicly where she could and infiltrating where she couldn’t. It’ll all come out in the wash but for now just trust me when I say she has been one busy centenarian.”

Another swipe of Stark’s hand and the displays shifted to a global map, dotted with various coloured markers signifying safe houses, resources, allies and contact points, and a scrolling list of hundreds of names.

“Operation Yoko is Lily’s baby. It has one goal – to restore the freedoms and safety of those marked as ‘other’ by the combined regimes of the current global political landscape. It will do this by fostering compassion and understanding in the general population, rescinding the Accords, disbanding the UN post-Sokovian elements, eliminating the remnants of HYDRA, outing their sympathisers and, my favourite part, utterly ruining the asshole bastard known as Secretary Thaddeus fucking Ross.”

“That is a tall order,” T’Challa remarked, steepling his fingers on the tabletop. “Wakanda has been attempting something similar for two years with little gain. How does Agent Evergreen plan to succeed where entire countries have failed?”

“With all due respect to Wakanda, your Majesty, you were fighting a multi-faceted war on just one side. You were outmanoeuvred. By running three distinct operations at once, Lily’s team will be able to respond to each line of attack as it occurs, and often _before_ it occurs. We have allies stationed across the globe, in all manner of circumstances. We aren’t restricted by a single country’s laws or etiquette. We don’t have to play by someone else’s rules – we make up our own.”

“Starting small then,” Sam muttered.

Tony sent him a wolf’s grin. “It’s the Stark way.”

“I’m afraid I cannot condone any illegal activity, regardless of its good intentions,” frowned T’Challa. “In addition to my own morals, I have my country’s reputation to consider. Perhaps I am not the right man to assist Agent Evergreen in this matter.”

Undeterred, Stark dismissed one of the displays, leaving only two of the scrolling files.

“Operation Yoko and Operation Brass Balls are entirely legal, I assure you. In fact, they _have_ to be,” said Stark. “Yoko’s aim is to connect the various grass-roots movements within the general populace and provide a squeaky clean figurehead for the cause to rally behind.”

“Lily,” guessed Steve, speaking for the first time since entering the room. His eyes were locked on the scrolling information and it seemed as though he wasn’t even aware he’d said anything.

“She already has the reputation and banking on her public image is easy money,” added Sam. “It could work.”

“Correction, it _will_ work. Limited as we were by working beneath the radar, it already has been,” Tony indicated the left display. “We’ve pulled in several underground movements already and connected them to our own networks. Once Lily goes public, we’ll gather more.”

“What is it you ask of Wakanda, Mr Stark?” asked T’Challa. He had relaxed with Stark’s reassurance on the legality issue and was now leaning forward with bright eyes transfixed on the man himself.

“Operation Yoko is about nurturing popular support. Operation Brass Balls is about _acting_ on that support. No matter how popular a movement is, rallies and speeches mean nothing if they aren’t backed up by politics -proper, honest, _ethical_ politics. Wakanda is the head of the global anti-Accords political scene. You can use your political connections to direct that popular opinion into actual change. With a proper groundswell, you can pressure the UN into rescinding their policies.”

T’Challa nodded slowly, tapping his lips with a fingertip. “If your Operation Yoko does what you say it will, Wakanda could capitalise on the movement regardless of whether or not we cooperate with your Agent Evergreen and her people. Why would we risk a connection?”

“Because you’re not an idiot,” snapped Stark. “If Wakanda joins Operation Brass Balls, you’ll get access to more players than you deal with now and inside knowledge that will enable synchronisation across the board. We have friends in many places, T’Challa, and if you truly mean to repeal the Accords, this is your best shot. Of course if all your stick rattling and noise making about the Accords these past couple of years has just been blowing smoke up- ,”

“It has not. Wakanda – **_I_** _–_ am committed to repealing these unjust laws.” T’Challa pushed his chair back and rose to his feet, re-buttoning his suit jacket with practiced fingers. “I will think on this matter, Mr Stark. If I do agree, however, I must insist on meeting with Agent Evergreen in private and in person. Can you guarantee this?”

“No I cannot.” When four sets of questioning eyes landed on him, Stark raised a hand and explained. “Lily is her own person. I can’t guarantee that she does _anything_. I can ask her. Recommend it. Facilitate it. I’m ninety nine percent sure she would agree. However, I can’t _guarantee_ it.”

Instead of disconcerting him as Bucky expected, Stark’s speech seemed to please T’Challa. The king smiled one of his true smiles, not one of the smiles he wore as diplomatic armour. “I must bid you farewell, gentlemen. Affairs of state are never ending. I’m sure you will manage well enough without my presence.”

Bucky, Sam and Steve rose from their seats in respect as T’Challa exited the room. It was a surprise to no one that Stark didn’t. Instead, he had already begun demolishing the two holograms and bringing up the one he had previously discarded. Then he lifted a flat black circle from his briefcase and placed it with a flourish at the head of the table T’Challa had vacated.

“Let me guess. Operation Glittering Eyepatch,” said Sam, rolling his eyes at the drama.

“Operation Glittering Eyepatch. Now’s the time. You in?”

Despite Sam’s complaining and generally snarky attitude, he made no move to leave the room. Bucky shared a look with Steve. His mate’s brow was deeply furrowed, his expression radiating concern, and Bucky didn’t blame him. From the hints Stark had given them, Glittering Eyepatch was a large multi-national operation of dubious legality and their girl was at the head of it all. Steve twitched an eyebrow in question – did Bucky want in? Damn but the punk was stupid sometimes.

“We’re in.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guys, THATS what Operation Yoko is all about! I wonder what's going on with Eyepatch...


	30. Augusta, Maine. Because reasons.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our frazzled heroine loses her chance for a quiet evening when things that should have been simple turn difficult... all at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my sweet sugar pops!  
> This is a fun little chapter I dropped in here because a) it highlights again the discrepancy between 'darcy lewis' and 'lily evergreen' and b) Tamani asked for it. And Tamani, my delightful muse, got some shitty news this week and deserves all the good things. 
> 
> Just a reminder, if you would like clarification on anything that happens in my stories please feel free to leave a comment or shoot me a message via email (rubytulips01@gmail.com) or tumblr (rubietulips). Lily's plans are getting pretty complicated and its a challenge to remember the details of things when chapters are spread out over a week, I totally get it. 
> 
> Love and Tony Stark's favourite sunshine to you all  
> -Rubie

 

* * *

 

 

[Tommo and Toffa](https://newsatnewscorpau.files.wordpress.com/2017/10/header_image.jpg)

(Tommo on the left, Toffa on the right) 

 

 

[Tony's super subtle Lexus](https://www.autonavigator.hu/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/204305_source.jpg) 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“This is ridiculous! Why are we on the freaking I-95 in the first place, Friday? Tell me, why are we doing this? Its nine o’clock on a Tuesday! What sin did the 295 commit?”

“One moment, Agent Evergreen.”

Darcy resisted the urge to bash her head into the steering wheel as her own peppy voice from earlier sang out from the car speakers telling Friday _yes she was_ _sure_ she wanted to readjust their route because the I-95 went past ‘Lewiston’ and that was clearly a good omen for their trip. That was four hours ago. Four. Hours. Ago. Back then peppy-Darcy had the advantages of sunlight, a blueberry slushie and a commitment-free evening, and the idea of a nice relaxing drive up north as a favour for a friend sounded just peachy.

Four-hours-ago-Darcy was a jerk.

“As you can hear, Agent Evergre- ,”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, you were right. Jesus.”

“Friday is preferable, however if you wish I can be reprogrammed to accept this new nomenclature if you feel it is more accur- ,”

“Loki's balls, you are such a Tony creation.”

The cars ahead inched forward and Darcy copied, grinding her teeth to dust to stop herself from sticking her head out the window and screaming bloody death on whatever was causing the hold up. Seriously, what the hell Maine? She took a calming breath, then another and delicately unwrapped her white knuckled grip from the steering wheel. It could be worse. Tony’s Lexus convertible was a big step up from the Pinzgauer, that was for sure – her brother’s modifications made driving feel like magic. Heated seats that actually worked were amazing. Actual suspension could not be overrated. And Friday’s ability to help her get away with speeding unnoticed was her high school self’s wet dream -which was definitely going to come in handy now that she was behind schedule and closing in on the time she was meant to be at a rendezvous on the other side of Augusta.

A soft chirp sounded, Friday’s way of discreetly clearing her throat. Darcy inched the Lexus forward again.

“I’m sorry, Friday, you didn’t deserve that. You were right and I was a bitch.”

“Apology accepted, Agent Evergreen. And if I may, there is a private turnoff coming up that could assist in reaching your destination sooner.”

“You are way better than Jesus.”

A sneaky turn later had Darcy flying along a series of almost-nearly-roads with the Lexus’s top down and Friday DJ-ing a road-rage themed playlist like a champ. _This_ was what she was looking for. She threw the Lexus down old country roads and around half-formed corners like the devil himself was after them, screaming her joy to the stars and not giving a single fuck how much dust got on the leather. She was freedom incarnate and nothing, _nothing_ , could touch her.

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

Clint lowered his phone to his lap just as a broad body sank into the deck chair next to him with a mumble and groan of joints both wooden and human.

“She’s on it?” his companion growled, his voice hoarse with exhaustion.

With his palm shading his vision from the bright light reflecting off the ocean waves, Tommo’s eyes themselves were hidden but the tension Clint’s skipper carried was clear in the deep furrows around them, the thin line of his mouth that disappeared beneath a moustache a week overdue for a trim, the grey tinge of fatigue beneath his browned skin. He hadn’t slept in days, not since they heard the news. Neither had Clint – he’d stayed up to make his call the moment they got a scrap of decent reception on the phone. Next time he spoke to base, he'd see about getting it replaced with Stark tech.

“Yeah. She’s on it,” Clint confirmed.

Tommo collapsed and let his head hang over the back of the chair, his face bare to the sunlight as he mouthed silent prayers of thanks. The older man had never outright discussed any religious proclivities but Clint knew that when he thanked his father in Heaven, Tommo wasn’t talking about God. He watched Tommo crack open an eyelid.

“Your girl. _Their_ girl. I haven’t met her. I don’t _know_ her. She won’t let us down?”

Clint’s lip quirked up. He’d known Darcy back in Puente Antigua when she was a bratty college kid snarking her way through an entire run of senior SHIELD agents who would rather be transferred to a different continent than be forced to deal with her and Dr Foster and their ridiculous and unexpected affinity for contract law. Darcy could -and  _did-_ argue microscopic points of clause intentions and verb nuances for hours if she thought it would gain an advantage for her friends. Phil had been the only one who had any luck with them – although that was probably because he was used to dealing with bratty, snarky little shits who lived to defy authority. These days Darcy might have a new name and a new life, but Clint was one of the best in his field for a reason. He could tell the difference between a cover’s made up traits and those of the real person beneath the mask. From what he saw in the media, ‘Lily Evergreen’ might be a pretty face and old timey manners but Darcy Lewis was and always would be a firebrand. If she said she’d fix something, it’d damn well get fixed.

“She won’t let us down in this lifetime. Or the last. Or the next.”

“Good. Good.”

A comfortable silence grew between them, aided by the gentle rock of the _Hallelayla_ and the warm rays of the sun. Their last lot of UN-threatened rescues had just been dropped off to a mate of Tommo’s in remote Western Australia so now they knew Darcy was on her way to fix things there was only the hum of the engine, the slap of the waves and the calling of the odd seabird to disturb their peace. Clint’s eyelids had just drooped closed when Tommo spoke up again, his voice soft and sleepy.

“You and Fred off then? Russia, was it?”

Clint hummed in the affirmative. He’d loved every moment of his oceanic vacay and the precious time spent with his soulmate but he itched to go back into the field and do some good again. When his new orders came he was ready to grab Freddie and his bow, and bolt for the nearest coastline. After a nap, of course.

“Reckon that shiela’s got herself a big enough army she’ll need her own fucking country soon enough,”

“Reckon so, skip,” Clint replied, relishing the lazy drawl of his faux accent. He shuffled lower in his deck chair and pulled down the brim of his hat.

“Ah, if I was thirty years younger…” Tommo chuckled, his voice muffled and dozy. “Maybe, maybe…”

“But you’re not,” Clint countered, not bothering to open his eyes. “And you’ve got Toffa. And the ‘ _layla_. And you don’t like vaginas.”

Tommo coughed. “Curse of the lonely sailor’s life, lad, s’what it is..”

“What? Curse? No, I said _vagin- ,”_

A brown sandal shot out and kicked the leg of Clint’s chair from beneath him, tipping him face first onto the salty deck where he spat and coughed at Tommo’s feet.

“Yep. Curse of the sailor, like I said.”

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

“Fuck Augusta,” Darcy swore as she wrenched the steering wheel down for a hard left across traffic. The locked wheels of her Lexus sent up a plume of black rubber smoke that briefly obscured the four painfully obvious ‘nondescript’ SUVs tailing her. “Fuck Augusta and fuck Maine. Seriously, I don’t care what Maria says, I am _never_ coming back here, this is just _rude_.”

“Yes, Agent. Two hundred yards on your right.”

Darcy growled as she slid the car neat as a pin into the street Friday had indicated. It was pitch black, unlit by any streetlight or overhang, but it was far too narrow for her to hold out hope of losing her tail here. A thick spray of bullets pinged off the back of the Lexus.

“Suck it, dick bags! Tony Stark’s finest, your bullets don’t count for shit!”

“Next right, Agent. There will be some minor obstruct- ,”

Darcy slammed the handbrake and took the turn at nearly full speed, completely upending rows of neatly stacked boxes outside an urban corner store as her wheels locked and skidded. She held the brief but unlikely hope that they were empty and she hadn’t just accidentally ruined six months’ worth of stock. At the top of the alley two more enormous SUVs came into view, filling up the space as they drove side by side towards her in an attempt to fence her in from both the front and rear. Her lips drew back in a wolf's grin. This wasn't going to end well for her opponent's insurance premiums.

“Are we absolutely sure this isn’t Augusta PD or FBI or someone else officially sanctioned? I do not want to blow up civil servants,” she asked, pressing her foot down to build up even more speed as she aimed the little Lexus convertible at the now blocked mouth of the alley.

“No. Despite registering an unknown affiliation, there is a ninety eight percent probability these are UN assailants working with Secretary Ross.”

“Then fuck ‘em,” Darcy grinned. “Ready to boost?”

“Systems ready, Agent Evergreen.”

With her quick prayer to Thor hidden beneath the roar of the Lexus’s supplement engine, Darcy rocketed headlong into the path of the oncoming vehicles. The raw power of her boost and the low set of the Lexus's Stark-grade reinforced nose merged to strike below the SUVs’ centre of gravity like a bowling ball, launching them both sideways off the ground to bounce and slide against the alley brickwork as they were dragged alongside the little convertible that could. Shrieks of tearing metal and a shower of hot sparks covered the top of her car, each scream its own brand of torture for her enhanced hearing, but Darcy grit her teeth and bore it. Friday flashed up sharp instructions and diagrams of the path ahead and between Darcy's well-timed manoeuvres and the natural shape of the alley it was only moments before she shook the Lexus free. She crowed with victory as the cars pursuing her suddenly found their windscreens full of three tonnes of flying, flaming automotive scrap metal.

“Hard left, then a dogleg right, Agent. Also, a complication has arisen."

"You don't say. What is it?"

"The rendezvous point given earlier is no longer under allied control. I have highlighted several substitutes, however as we were not given contact information we have no way of conveying any potential new location to the persons awaiting us.”

“Then I guess we’ll just try to catch them en-route and hope they don’t shoot me in the face,” Darcy laughed. The adrenaline rush from the car chase was clearly making her crazy. She slowed her speed and tried to blend a little better with the practically non-existent Augustan night traffic, hoping that her luck would hold just a fraction longer.

Her info-display flashed red.

Because of course it did.

“Agent Evergreen, my systems are currently under remote attack. There is only limited danger of a breach however the resources required to defend against the attack may mean I am unable to assist you further in my current capacity.”

Darcy snorted and shook her head. She was minutes away from a high risk rendezvous and someone had to attack Friday’s systems _now?_  Slowing down for a traffic light, Darcy reviewed her options. She was on her own in an unfamiliar city with limited weaponry, enemies who were already alert to her presence and a huge risk of public exposure that could ruin her entire operation. There was no one even remotely nearby who could help- which is why _she’d_ been asked to come here in the first place. Going without Friday’s assistance running electronic interference and surveillance now was practically suicidal, she’d be spotted in no time flat and she’d _promised_ she wouldn’t do that kind of thing anymore… but the people she’d been sent to help were in serious trouble and they wouldn’t be able to get through the next few hours without her...

“If I may suggest, the nature of this attack is similar to ones I have experienced in the past relating to Agent Romanoff, particularly during the boss’s laboratory lockdown protocols when she was attempting to gain the boss's attention. Should that be similar to the current situation, if you attend her I could return to full functionality.”

“Alright, let's see who's knocking. Audio only. Pull up the altered rendezvous directions onscreen, adjusting for current unknown activity or surveillance. If it’s not Natasha, then do what you have to – Tony and Yoko have priority, as always, and I'll make do with what I've got.”

A low pitched buzzing came through the speakers, followed by a series of clicks and beeps and then a woman’s icy voice.

“You are a liar and a traitor and when I find you I will make what Zola did to you look infantile by comparison.”

Oh good, Darcy thought to herself. It was Natasha, and she was early. What an entirely predictable turn of events. Darcy killed her headlights and coasted along yet another abandoned Augusta street, following Friday’s labyrinthine guide while internally screaming like a fucking banshee.

“Good evening, Ms Romanoff. Are you well? How is Poland?”

“No more games. You sent me on a fool’s errand for useless information and used that opportunity to steal what is precious to me.”

At Darcy’s unspoken signal, Friday switched off the glowing visual displays and dropped the audio volume to a bare whisper. She also lowered the Lexus’s top, opening the cabin to the sounds and smells of the city. Silently, Darcy inched the convertible through the inky urban streets, alert to any sign of her contact.

“If you found what was in Poland then you know that information isn’t useless. Not to me, at least,” Darcy muttered. “And I haven’t stolen anything. Just… moved it. Temporarily.”

“Your every breath is a lie. Give me the coordinates of what you stole immediately and I will let you read the dossiers before I kill you.”

Two streets over, something knocked into a collection of garbage cans and scattered the lids in a clang of metal against brick. It could have been an animal, or a clumsy teen taking out the trash. The _pop pop pop_ of silenced gunshots definitely weren’t from local Augusta wildlife, however. Not unless Friday had missed something important in her Visitor's Information Guide.

“Alternatively, you could send Friday the dossiers. I’ll give you the coordinates regardless, but really, what harm is there in letting me read the information a few days before you murder me?”

“Your word means nothing. Send the coordinates. I won’t ask again.”

 Darcy listened as uneven boot steps and an unidentified drag scraped along the nearest alley and let the idling Lexus creep up to hide just across the way. Now was the moment of truth. If this was her contact, then hopefully she wouldn’t be immediately taken as a threat and shot before she could speak. If it _wasn’t_ her contact, well. Her hand hid a Glock of her own beneath the window ledge.

“Friday, please send Ms Romanoff the Barton family coordinates before she blows up something critical,” she whispered. “And tell Clint he owes me twenty bucks because Natasha will totally make it to their new safehouse before Cooper’s birthday party.”

A single dull blink on the dashboard was Friday’s only response.

In the ensuing silence, the sound of a handgun’s safety being clicked off was deafening. Darcy tracked the location of the noise and spotted two people-sized shadows at the edge of the alley, one small person leaning heavily on a larger one. The larger shape’s left arm was wrapped around the waist of his companion and his right aimed an unwavering gun at Darcy.

“If you are here to try to capture us, you need to know we won’t be taken without a fight,”

Darcy let go of her Glock, allowing it to drop into the centre console. She gave her most non-threatening smile and slowly lifted her hands to link her fingers behind her head.

“ _Hallelayla_ ,” she said. “Sorry about the change of location. The original rendezvous point was overtaken by a bunch of hooligans.”

Her contact huffed a low laugh and holstered his weapon. “And after we went to all the trouble to book it in advance. Kids these days, eh?”

Flicking her seatbelt aside, Darcy got out to help the pair into the car. When she neared she saw the smaller figure was a girl, maybe in her late teens, dressed in bloodied hospital scrubs and looking decidedly neglected. She shook several strands of matted blonde hair from her face and glared.

“So that’s it? We’ve been running for four days straight and now we just jump in a car with some local rando?”

“Rando, yes, local, no,” Darcy replied, too drained to be polite. She ducked beneath the girl’s free arm and led them towards the Lexus. “New Yorker, actually. Lily Evergreen, lovely to meet you. Perhaps we can share tragic backstories over some chamomile tea and a plate of custard creams? Or maybe you can just get in the car before you pass out.”

The girl’s mouth dropped open in a comical O. Her companion gently closed it for her with a fingertip, then lifted her into the backseat as if she was made of glass. When Darcy tilted her head in question, he nodded.

“Jessica Avery. She’ll be okay. Bullet wound, straight through. I’ve patched it up as best I could for now and it should hold until we get to safety. Anyway, Christopher Tremblay’s the name. Awfully pleased to meet you. When Archer said he was sending someone, I didn't realise I qualified for special favours from up top.”

Darcy laughed and made her way around to climb back into the driver’s seat.

“What can I say, I was in the neighbourhood. Let’s go, shall we? There’s a sweet little safehouse waiting for you in Vermont and I’ve gotta say I’m ready to leave Augusta for dust.”

The engine roared to life once more and Friday’s displays lit up like Times Square, with several dots on the navigation screen highlighting a squad of unfriendlies slowly making their way towards them. Much too slowly. Sucked to be them. Darcy took particular glee in making the Lexus’s tires scream as she left the vicinity, tearing away from urban Augusta as fast as her brother’s extravagant car could take them.

 

* * *

 

 

 


	31. A pretty farmhouse in Nowheresville, Vermont

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy spends some time at her custom safe house in Vermont. 
> 
> Trigger Warning: dissociative episode, panic attacks, nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My loves,  
> This chapter was heartbreaking to write and contains some serious angst.  
> If reading about psychologically troubling episodes disturbs you, please consider whether or not you wish to continue. 
> 
> If you do wish to continue, that's great! I sincerely hope this chapter was worth all the build up.
> 
> My heart is in your hands, lovelies.  
> -Rubie.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was four o’clock in the morning by the time the trio of survivors drove silent and unnoticed into Vermont. After Darcy’s Formula One: Augusta stint, she’d decided to play it safe and spent hours backtracking and laying false trails before switching to stealth mode for the state line crossing. The injured rescue, Jessica Avery, slept the entire time. The Canadian contact, Tremblay, hadn’t slept a wink. That wasn’t surprising, though, like most senior operatives he probably wouldn’t be able to relax until he had completed his mission and his charge was safe. Darcy knew the feeling. Except safety for her boys wasn’t a pretty farmhouse only a few hours away and was instead a nebulous finish line that continued to slip further and further away the more she tried to grasp at it. There was so much she had to do, so much she had to get _done_ and there was no _time_. Maria was flying out to the West Coast to meet up with another underground resistance group in California, Mac and Pepper had a benefit in a few days and their new adjusted guest list needed to be re-audited. Friday had a whole drive full of reconnaissance from Ross’s people that Darcy needed to review because they were making a worrying amount of noise in the US financial sector. _Brass Balls_ was due to launch any hour now- she was waiting on word from T’Challa and his Wakandan advisers, who would need her support for their upcoming meeting with Angela Merkel and the German arm of the anti-Sokovia Accords movement that of course didn’t officially exist and couldn’t use proper channels for communication and networking. Tony was flying in from Africa in time to support _her_ in her own clandestine meeting, this one with the Canadian Prime Minister who was both devilishly handsome and devilishly good at negotiations. Following that, she needed to prepare for President Ellis’s address and her long awaited coming out party, which was going to be A Big Deal. And on top of all _that_ , Glittering Eyepatch was behind schedule and Maria’s soulmate Nick Fury was riding her ass as if she didn’t _know_ how important it was, how absolutely _vital_ it was that all three operations launch simultaneously. She was doing her damned best but with official sanction from both the US and the UN, Ross was getting more aggressive each week and she could only do so much without breaking cover. Hopefully now that Natasha, Clint and Freddie were skipping around Europe they would have more luck in distracting the world’s most hated Secretary and she might actually get a chance to-

Next to her, Tremblay adjusted his posture and stretched out his neck. He was a big man, fit in a way that the vast majority of men in their fifties were not, and being cramped inside the Lexus must have felt like a slow murder. When Darcy slid her gaze across him in question, he lifted a shoulder.

“Been a while since I put the ol’ joints through their paces,” he explained with a wry grin that took twenty years off his features. He reminded Darcy of Mac, a man who was genuinely surprised that his boyish, adventurous spirit lived inside a body that wasn’t able to keep up quite like it used to.

Darcy scoffed and turned her attention back to the road. “Don’t talk to me about _been a while_ , Commander,” she teased. “Or I’ll start with the _back in my days_ ,”

“I’ll give you that one, that’s fair,” Tremblay chuckled. “And I bet you can one-up all my war stories too, eh?”

Memories of the war flashed through her mind in a succession of technicolour nightmares. The broken bodies covered in mud as boys pretending to be men were gunned down at her feet, the smell of lingering gas  as her team arrived too late at yet another HYDRA facility. The colour of her own insides as Mac sewed her back together in a bolt hole in France in 1942. The thunder of the Nazi war machines turning concrete to dust while they ran for their lives. Had she stopped running yet? Would she ever be able to?

“Something like that,” she managed. “Tell me about Jessica? Clint was a bit short on details when we spoke. Why did she warrant a personal rescue from the Commander of the Maple Railroad himself?”

Tremblay got the hint. He turned his attention forward as he replied.

“Jessica is US government-adjacent. Ross wanted to send a message to his own people that _everyone_ needs to obey the rules, ally or not, so he ordered her capture. But while Ross might be fine sacrificing his own daughter for the greater good, his people aren’t. Especially not _these_ people, oh no way, no sir. Jessica Avery is the adopted child of Melinda May.”

“Melinda May, as in, Phil Coulson’s second in command Melinda May? _The Cavalry_ Melinda May? Deputy Director of the new SHIELD Melinda May?”

Darcy shook her head, marvelling anew at the sheer arrogance of Ross. SHIELD was a US agency and as such were technically under the same restrictions as any other government organisation but anyone who had even half a clue about what went on behind closed doors knew SHIELD had always flown its own flag, right from the start. Taking one of their children? Yeah, no, that was never going to end well. Friday flicked up a discreet reminder about an upcoming turnoff towards the safehouse and Darcy obeyed, speaking her thoughts aloud as she drove through yet more uninhabited Vermont wilderness.

“So Ross snatched up May’s little girl, May went to Coulson, Coulson went to Barton, who was on the _Hallelayla_. Barton went to Freddie, who went to Captain Thompson, who went to you and the rest of the Maple Railroad and then when you and Jessica were outed in Maine, you went back to Thompson, then Freddie and Barton, who came to me. Am I right?”

Tremblay crinkled his nose. “It sounds ridiculous when you say it like that.”

“Oh you know how it goes. Any kidnapped adopted daughter of a surrogate son of the Australian husband of an allied retired Unit Commander’s soulmate’s soulmate’s colleague is a friend of mine.”

Together they shared a look and laughed. Then Darcy was struck by a thought. If Jessica was May’s daughter, they wouldn’t need to attempt one of the Railroad’s border crossings into Canada at all –her Vermont safehouse was isolated enough that Phil Coulson could come pick them up in his enormous flying laboratory/department office/war machine/youth hostel. That meant Darcy could debrief with Phil in person regarding Eyepatch and the Barton Family Adventures in Europe, which could in turn possibly earn herself back some time on her cramped schedule. Never let it be said that Darcy Lewis missed an opportunity for advantage.

“Commander, how would you feel if I stayed on at the safehouse with you and Jessica for a few days?”

Tremblay looked back at her with a grin. “A lady such as yourself? Don’t tell my husband but I’d feel like the luckiest man this side of the equator. And call me Toffa, eh?”

The smile Darcy returned was genuine in its satisfaction. Finally something was going her way.

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

The converted attic that served as Darcy’s private rooms in her Vermont safehouse was quiet, the generous space empty of all noise. It wasn’t a passive quiet, the silence of vacancy or disuse. No, it was the crackling, hostile silence of a predator stalking its prey, a lioness holding its breath before launching that final, fatal strike.

“I don’t trust you,” said Natasha finally, staring out at her from Friday’s video projection. “I don’t trust you and I don’t like you. But after being provided some additional information, I acknowledge what you did for Clint’s family and I refuse to be in your debt.”

Darcy, internally feeling very much like the zebra in this scenario, decided not to argue the existence of Natasha’s assumed ‘debt’. She wrapped herself in the false confidence of her adopted persona and stood at ease in front of Friday’s communications array, letting Natasha seek whatever she needed to in ‘Agent Lily Evergreen’s’ body language. Darcy was no fool. She had a few advantages over Natasha –namely her speed, her intense resolve regarding her current task, and her laundry list of allies – but this was the Black Widow. If it ever came down to a true fight, a real fight one-on-one with no enhanced abilities, fancy gadgets or calls to Tony for help, Natasha and her many years of experience and self-discipline would wipe the floor with her. Yes, Darcy had managed to get the drop on her twice now but that was mostly extensive planning and inside knowledge, and Darcy’s war-honed instincts told her trying for a third time would most likely end in disaster.

Damned if Darcy would let _Natasha_ know she knew that though. Still projecting a certainty she didn’t feel, Darcy nodded her chin in a short motion of acknowledgement. On the screen, Natasha uncurled her fingers to reveal an electronic storage device on her palm.

“In payment of that debt, I give you this advice. These dossiers will bring you no comfort, no satisfaction and no joy. Don’t read them. Move on. Only ghosts can live in the past.”

Darcy approached the desk where Friday’s main display screens were assembled, deliberately moving closer to the cameras that would reveal to Natasha the resolve she felt simmering beneath her skin. She’d worked hard for this information, teased of its existence months ago when she met Mac after her return to the twenty first century. It was a lost link to her own personal history, the final piece of an incomplete puzzle that haunted her with soulful dark eyes and a rebellious smirk and a loyalty she had no right to claim. Hidden as it had been in the long-forgotten vaults of occupied Poland, Darcy, like Mac, had lacked the international resources to recover it. Until she asked Natasha Romanoff, that was.

“I appreciate the advice, Ms Romanoff. And I would also appreciate you completing the assignment I paid you for by giving me that file.”

Natasha stared at her for a moment and Darcy wondered if perhaps she would say more but the red-head merely lifted a shoulder in a feline shrug. She connected the device to a drive on her end and Friday flashed up a series of flickering lights that signalled the incoming information transfer. Once it was complete Darcy murmured her thanks and let the connection to Natasha drop without bothering with goodbyes. Toffa and Jessica had left with May and Coulson earlier that morning and the closest neighbouring farmhouse was over two hours away. Darcy was now alone once more and the need to read this information stole any other thoughts from her consideration.

“Friday, engage maximum security protocols. If Natasha Romanoff is bothering to warn me, we can be pretty sure this isn’t going to be good news and I don’t want any surprises while I’m distracted.”

“Yes, Agent. Although according to my systems, the boss is due to arrive shortly at your location. Would it not be best to wait for him?”

Darcy plucked the last of the bobby pins from her hair and let it drop on the desktop, shaking her head to encourage the fall of her curls. With no one else to witness it, she could discard her prim and proper _Agent Evergreen_ costume entirely and she eagerly sought out the simple comfort of relaxing in a state of dishevelled undress. Massaging her aching scalp with one hand, Darcy removed her blazer with the other, kicked off her heels and with a few short tugs she was down to her camisole and skirt and feeling more comfortable than she had in weeks. She curled herself up on her bedroom’s little sofa where Friday would be able to display multiple projection points at once.

“I’m a big girl, Friday. I might have a little cry but it’ll be okay. Bring it up.”

Six projection screens materialised in an arc in front of her. Three showed pages of official looking documents neatly typed in German, Russian and English, two screens flicked through a series of images of dead bodies, and the last screen displayed a collection of paper scraps covered in a scrawl of messy Cyrillic handwriting. Ignoring the pictures for now, Darcy enlarged the typed documents and asked Friday to help her translate _en-masse_.

“These papers are dated between nineteen forty four and nineteen forty six and encompass both German and allied intelligence agencies. They focus primarily on accounts of an unknown sniper working beyond known mission parameters of any official organisation. Currently there are twenty eight deaths accredited to the sniper, determined by similarities in choice of victim, kill style, timing and by evidence left at the scene.”

Leaning forward on the edge of her couch, Darcy flicked her fingertips to dismiss the documents then moved on to the pictures. She skimmed through each one, noticing as she did that all the bodies were of men in highly decorated German or Russian military dress. Ice dripped slowly down her spine the longer she stared, prickling her skin while her mind hummed with an instinctual _knowing_ of what she was seeing.

Arranging the kills in chronological order, a story emerged.

Each man had died in their home, a place that should have been safe. The first few fell to a single high calibre bullet to the absolute centre of the forehead. Then over time, the accuracy of the shots decreased. The next few missed the centre of the forehead, then the few after that missed the forehead at all. Then the kill shots were fired into the chest with similar degenerating accuracy, until the final victim required multiple bullets to the upper torso to be dispatched.

After their death the bodies were positioned in places of power, in their libraries or offices or at the head of a table. Like with the bullet wounds, this method of display deteriorated with time. At first the corpse could be dragged through the entire house to be placed in the most dramatic position available but at the end of the spree, the last body was slumped against the flat of his desk a mere three feet away from where he had been killed.

At every scene, a scrap of paper was placed in the body’s right hand and a single white flower was placed in their left. These deaths were personal to their killer. These deaths took time, planning, forethought. This wasn’t a hired gunman simply following orders- this was vengeance. This was an assassin choosing to spend the last vestiges of his life and strength to take that of his enemies.

Friday’s voice was loud in the chilled quiet of the room and Darcy’s hand jumped to her throat. Her fingertips trembled, unconsciously tapping a frantic rhythm against her collarbones as her eyes scanned images of further horror. She was responsible for this.

“Although no one theory can be proven as to the unknown sniper’s motives, each one of the victims were thought to be men who either dodged or attempted to flee consequences of their war-time actions following the Axis’ surrender. Notes included in the German reports indicate that no real investigation into the sniper’s identity was organised in fear the investigators would be considered accomplices to the targeted men and then be subsequently targeted themselves.”

Darcy’s eyes began to burn as she stared at the screens without blinking, unable to look away. “This was Kolya. This is what he did after I was gone, after Azzano. This is what I encouraged.”

Twisting the metaphorical knife deeper into her own psyche, Darcy continued on to the scraps of paper left at the crime scenes. They were all the same - a single line of Cyrillic lettering, written by a hand that once again started strong, with firm, straight strokes and ended up as thin, wavering lines. Friday helpfully provided a transcription.

**_For my brother, whose death you ordered. For my sister, whose death you celebrated. And for mine, which came too slowly to stop yours._ **

Her voice thick with suppressed emotion, Darcy asked Friday to identify the type of flower that was left at the scenes. She knew, of course. In her heart she knew what it was. But maybe, just maybe she was wrong and this whole thing was a mistake and the sniper wasn’t Kolya and it wasn’t about her and it wasn’t about what she’d done, and she hadn’t turned another good man into a monster and-

“It is a white lily, Agent. Most commonly associated with funerals, it is often left at burial sites to signify a person’s chance to return to purity in the afterlife. The white lily is known as the flower of the dead.”

She closed her eyes. It didn’t matter. The images were still there.

“Kolya, what did you do?” she whispered into the void in her mind.

 _Only what you told him he should_ , the void returned.

Leaping up from the couch, Darcy sprinted into her bathroom to empty her stomach. With no time to switch on the light, she missed the toilet bowl entirely and ended up dropping to her hands and knees to heave bile across the cold tiled floor. Acid burned her mouth as her stomach churned over and again. She’d done this, taken another good man and turned him into a cold blooded murderer. She’d saved him from that HYDRA lab only to ruin him. _For my sister_ , the note said, but he meant _her_. He had looked down his scope at those men and pulled the trigger in cold blood with _her_ in his mind. Lily fucking Evergreen. The flower of the dead.

 _You are a killer,_ _Nachtblüte, not a saviour._

Zola had told her that, when he cut her open and examined her insides. Again and again and again, he told her that.

She’d tried. Dear God, she’d tried so hard to protect the ones she cared for, the ones she loved. She gave herself over to the men in charge, let them give her a new name and a new face and a new life and new orders to sing and dance and line ‘em up and knock ‘em down. She gave them every part of the girl once known as Darcy Lewis and let them reshape her into something she didn’t recognise all for the chance to save her people but she hadn’t had she? She lost them. Abandoned them. Betrayed them. Turned them into murderers. Just like her.

Zola was right. She hadn’t saved anyone, only killed. That’s who she was now, all the things that once made her a person stripped away and replaced with poison. There was nothing left but what she had asked to become.

A liar and a killer.

She was shaking now, her legs spasming beneath her and her narrow skirt hampering her attempts to rise. She pulled herself up to the sink but her body refused to bear her weight. Scrambling for purchase in the lightless room, her hands knocked over a mirror and it smashed next to her, shattering into a dozen shadowed shards. Her elbow gave out and she slipped and cracked her head on the porcelain, one arm scraping against a jagged edge of the mirror as she fell and landed on the floor amongst the pieces like a broken doll.

Heedless of the blood that flowed from her temple and the mess she’d made, Darcy crawled across the scattered glass to the shower. Reaching up into the darkness, her hand found the controls and her unsteady fingers spun the taps. Warmth. She needed warmth. She curled into a ball as a spray of water hit her from above, unleashing another memory. Zola again, always Zola, that beady eyed Dr Frankenstein who looked at her and saw his beloved monster. Zola ordering her to be pushed beneath the icy water of an Alpine lake, laughing as she fought. Over and over, she was held beneath the surface until she could no longer tell if she was alive or dead.

 _You are a killer,_ _Nachtblüte._ _Evil cannot be drowned, only innocents line the bottom of the lakes. You will live._

_Evergreen. Never white. Seldom red._

She tilted her head, opening her mouth to the shower stream until she choked. The water turned hot, stinging her skin. Her hand reached back up to the controls, turning it all the way and letting the water scald her wherever it struck. Each drop seared her, condemning her with proof of her tainted life.

 _You are a killer,_ _Nachtblüte._

_Evergreen._

_Never white._

Darcy clutched at head and screamed. She dragged her fingernails down the sides of her face, digging them into her throat to try to feel herself screaming from the inside. She was alive, she could feel it, feel her heartbeat pumping blood through her fingers and down her arms. She was alive because she was evil. Death would not come for her. Death would only come for those she loved.

 _Not a saviour_.

_Senior Agent Lillian Evergreen._

_You are a liar and a traitor._

“Lily! Oh my God. Friday- ,”

 Hands grabbed at her body and instinctively she fought them, twisting and kicking until she won free. She would not go back. She would _not_. He wouldn’t let her die.

“-lease, Lily, It’s me- ,”

Bright light blinded her, replacing her vision with burning red flares. Darcy shrieked her defiance and lashed out. Something smashed. Jagged debris covered her and her attacker, piercing her skin in a dozen places, but she ignored it and fought. She would not go back.

 _It is just you and I now,_ _Nachtblüte... I want to hear you scream_

“-ust get in here and fucking help m-,”

More hands, bigger, stronger. Too strong.

She begged. Pleaded. Not again. Not again.

There was a familiar prick of steel and instantly she knew she had lost. The needle slid beneath her skin, already spreading its poison.

“-‘m so sorry. I’m so sorry, sweethe- ,”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes.
> 
> After everything that has happened, Darcy finally broke.


	32. The Break House, Vermont

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Darcy's breakdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my sweet peaches! 
> 
> How are you? Have you recovered from the emotional battering of last chapter? Are you ready for some quality healing?  
> Cos boy do I have the solution for you.
> 
> Please accept, with all my love, the following.
> 
> -Rubie
> 
> ADDENDUM:  
> A huge thank you to Biblioworm for making my VERY FIRST EVER ART PIECE for the Peaches-verse. I can't believe it, I'm so super happy. All the love for my Bibbi.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Video footage taken in a small, bright bedroom filled with sports equipment and scattered clothing. Sitting cross-legged on the bed is a boy with sandy blonde hair that hangs in his eyes, dressed in a baggy Iowa Hawkeyes jersey with a ‘HAPPY 15th’ button pinned to his chest. A purple party hat sits next to him._

_The boy gives a shy smile and waves to the camera._

_“So, um, hi,” he croaks, his voice wavering between childish and grown. “My name’s Cooper Barton. I, uh… Uncle Clint said if I recorded you a message he could get it to you, so, uh… I guess I just… I dunno. Wanted to say thanks?”_

_The boy covers his now pink cheeks with both hands and leans forwards to fall face first into the bedding with a pained, drawn-out groan. Muffled words emerge from the blankets that Friday picks up as “oh my god, I am so lame.”_

_After another moment Cooper sits up again, his hair messier and his cheeks redder. He locks his jaw forward and stares directly into the camera with determination._

_“Okay. I’m just gonna say it straight. My parents never tell me stuff cos I’m just a kid but I’m not stupid or anything. I can figure things out. We were in trouble in Iowa, cos of Dad and Uncle Clint’s work. We were stuck and we couldn’t leave the farm and Mom and Dad were scared and then they got a call from Uncle Clint and then the jets came to bring us here. And Uncle Clint won’t tell me anything either except we’re all safe now because you made it happen. And… and I know you must hear it all the time and you must get so sick of it and you probably don’t even remember everyone who you help… but I know you saved my family and I want to tell you that I’m grateful.”_

_The boy picks up a sheet of copy paper and holds it up to the camera. Half of the page is covered in green and purple squiggles and the other half has a picture of a woman in a green uniform riding a unicorn beneath a smiling yellow sun._

_“Lila and Nathanial thank you too. They’re too young to really get it right now but I’ll make sure they remember. I- ,”_

_Knocking comes from off-camera and the boy looks over to the side and smiles._

_A deep voice speaks. “Hey Coop, how’s the message coming? Can I add something?”_

_At Cooper’s nod Clint Barton walks into frame, dressed in an identical Iowa jersey and purple party hat. He leans over Cooper’s shoulder to point down the lens with a mock scowl._

_“I’m not paying you a dime, you damned minx, you rigged the game- Nat was already in Europe and you knew it! And now Lila says you’re her favourite superhero and refuses to answer to anything except LILY. My own niece! How could you! Its- ,”_

_A slender black-clad arm reaches into frame to grab a fistful of Clint’s jersey and drags him out of sight to the accompaniment of a flood of Russian swear words._

_“Mutiny!” Clint shrieks in the distance. “Mutiny! This is mutiny! FREDDIE!”_

 

 

 

 ((art by my very favourite worm of all worms, Biblioworm. Thank you sweetheart, both for the picture and for letting me post it here!!))

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

“Okay well that was fucking bullshit.”

To his complete and utter lack of surprise, neither of his companions argued. Steve Rogers stood as stiff as a scarecrow, his fists jammed into his pockets and his eyes locked on the middle distance outside Darcy’s kitchen window. Bucky Barnes continued to sit silently at the kitchen table, staring resolutely at his own chest like he could will himself invisible.

Three days ago in a fit of uncharacteristic benevolence he blamed entirely on his sister, Tony offered the super soldiers seats in his conveniently customs-exempt jet on his return to the US. He realised now that by extending his offer, Tony had unwittingly cast himself in the role of Gatekeeper of the Lily, the male head of household in a Jane Austen-esque teledrama that could burn or bless the soldiers’ attempt at courting their fair maiden. Before he made the offer, Rogers and Barnes had been stiffly professional when necessary but mostly kept their distance. Now they were the awkward teenagers picking up their date for the prom and trying not to piss off her overprotective dad. For three days it had been _yes sir_ , or _no sir_ , or _three bags full sir_. Well actually, it had been _two bags only half full, sir_ because they were a pair of sad old men who lacked a proper-human amount of personal effects.

With Barnes, Tony could accept this behaviour. The man had killed his parents, for fuck’s sake. Sure, he was brainwashed when he did it and it wasn’t technically his fault, whatever. Facts being what they were though, James Barnes killed Howard and Maria Stark and was now relying on their son to help him develop a relationship with their adopted daughter. It was a tense situation. Tony could understand Barnes wanting to avoid any miscommunications.

With Rogers, however, it was just plain annoying.

Steve used to be the guy who would challenge him, who could ignore the glitz and the hype and the drama and stand up to him whenever he thought it was necessary. Steve was able to take him by the scruff and drag him up from the depths of whatever mess he’d put himself in, or alternatively, grab hold of his flight feathers if he was steering too close to the sun. In the years since the Avengers split, Tony had to come to terms with the fact he missed that. Missed having someone with a reputation just as big as his own to help keep his feet on solid ground. Missed the arguments they’d had because in the end no matter who won, the team always came out stronger. Missed his friend.

And now that friend had turned into an obsequious little gnat ready to fly into action the second Tony snapped his fingers, just on the off chance Tony would grant him access to Lily. Goddamn but he did not have time for this shit. He pushed off from the bench and clapped his hands to get the men’s attention.

“Listen up, grandpas. You and I are going to sit here and figure out what the hell just happened to my sister so we can make goddamn sure it doesn’t happen again. Then you-,” Tony pointed his finger at Steve’s face “-and I are going to step outside while _you-_ ,” he continued, now pointing at Barnes “-are going to camp your ass next to Lily’s bed and not move a fucking inch until she wakes up, at which point you will notify me the _second_ her eyelids flutter. Do you understand?”

Barnes swallowed and nodded his head, eyes wide as a dish plate. Steve shifted his weight and crossed then uncrossed his arms as though he had no idea what to do with them if he wasn’t standing in formation.

Steve shifted his weight back to the original side. “Why, uh…”

“Why are we stepping outside?” Tony asked. “Because I am _itching_ to smash that pretty jaw of yours, Rogers, and I don’t want to mess up Lily’s house.”

Watching Steve’s mouth gape open then snap closed was pretty damn satisfying, Tony had to admit. He waited for Steve to protest getting socked in the face but he didn’t. The formerly star spangled man was actually going to stand there without complaint and let Tony take a swing at him. Tony was going to strain his extraoculars if he rolled his eyes any harder.

He tempered his tone, keeping it low and slow like he was talking to a couple of sleep deprived toddlers.

“ _Lily_ is my sister. _Lily_ is one of the few half decent people left on this planet. _Lily_ is the only reason I’m talking to you right now. Because _Lily_ needs us to put our shit to one side and get the fuck over it. She wants to carry the weight of the world? Fine. We need to be able to carry _her_. Together.”

Steve looked over to Barnes and the two of them spent a moment absorbed in some kind of geriatric ESP. Then Barnes nodded and stood up to stand shoulder to shoulder next to his mate as Steve extended a hand in offering.

“I’m sorry, Tony. What I did was wrong and I see that. Give me a chance. Give _us_ a chance. We won’t let her down.”

“Good. That’s good,” Tony said, accepting his old friend’s waiting hand. He was pleased to note that Steve’s grip was firm and sure. “But don’t think you’re getting out of a belting that easily, you owe me.”

A familiar smirk blossomed on Steve’s face. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

She woke to the sound of low music, an extended jazz piece she recognised from her own collection. She quickly catalogued her situation, feeling the give of a mattress below her and her favourite heavyweight cotton sheets above her. The skin on her arms and around her neck tingled, sure signs of her accelerated healing at work. Also… Sunlight.

Her lips curled in a fond smile. Tony had moved her bed so she was closer to the window.

The sound of an unexpected body stirring at her bedside made her still again. That wasn’t Tony.

“I promised I would tell them when you opened your eyes. So if you don’t open your eyes, I can have a little longer with you.”

Her smile grew. She kept her eyes closed.

“How very devious of you, James Barnes,” she said.

He chuckled. “I might have borrowed a few notes from a certain silver-tongued soulmate.”

The tingling sensation on her skin increased and it had nothing to do with healing. Trying to keep herself from spontaneously combusting with excitement, she shifted the blankets next to her.

“I might get lonely with my eyes closed. Do you have any ideas on how to fix that?”

Steve was fast. She was faster. _Bucky_ could move beyond the speed of light, apparently, because before the words even left her mouth the mattress sank beneath two hundred and fifty pounds of metal and man. As gently as if she were made of paper, Bucky lifted her into his arms. He leaned back against the pillows and cradled her against his chest with his vibranium arm strong and secure around her while his natural hand ran through her hair and settled on her jaw with his thumb caressing her cheekbone. He sighed, deep and long, as though the comfort he gave was equal to the comfort he himself was receiving.

“Are you safe?” she asked, her voice muffled by his shirt.

Bucky hummed and the vibration made her shiver. She was so _close_ to him and his nearness was a balm for her raw soul.

“For now. Thanks to you the world thinks I’m dead and Stark brought us here in his jet so no one could say otherwise. It’s not a permanent solution, but…”

“Where is he? And Steve?”

“Sorting out their differences the best way either of those lunkheads know how,” Bucky replied. With her eyes closed she couldn’t see but she could hear the smile in his voice. So her other boys were alright then. Steve and Tony were safe and Bucky was safe and she was safe…

She sighed. “I’m sorry. About last night. You weren’t meant to see that.”

Bucky’s hand stilled and she felt the press of his lips on her forehead. “That’s your one.”

“My one?”

“Its something Sam came up with. Whenever Steve has a nightmare or I have an episode, Sam helps us through it. We tend to get a little bogged down in guilt sometimes, I suppose, so Sam lets us have one apology and then we have to move on to something more constructive. And that was yours.”

Something protective and fierce rose inside her, thinking of Steve or Bucky suffering without her there to help. How stupid she had been, to keep them at arms-length in a misguided attempt to protect them? How often had they endured alone when she could have been there? Pressure built behind her eyelids and an ache swelled behind her ribs. That was… this was… She could have… _should_ have…

Bucky tilted her face and feathered his lips over hers, arresting the panic attack before it could gain momentum. With his heartbeat solid beneath her palm, she melted as he kissed her soft and sweet, each tender movement saying all the things that both of them wanted to say but neither knew how.

Kiss.

 _I’m sorry_.

Kiss.

_I’m here._

Kiss.

_I care._

Kiss.

_I love you._

She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to bash her fists against Bucky’s chest and demand he take her somewhere far away from this shit storm and hide in the sand. She was both emptied and full, her entire being bruised and battered and raw. There was so much, _too much_.

“Shhh, darling, I know. I know.”

And he did. Of course he did. Who else would know as well as he did just what it felt to be taken and stripped and polluted until nothing but the narrowest thread remained? Who else would know like he did what it felt like to be turned into something unrecognisable, something so foreign it had no name, hunted and tormented until death became a coveted blessing?

He held her there against him, her gentle harbor in the storm, and she clung on like her life depended on it. She abandoned the world beyond his embrace, uncaring of anything but the safety he promised her. Nothing else mattered.

Voices tried to penetrate her little bubble but she refused to heed them. If there was a threat, Bucky would protect her. Anything else could wait.

The bed shifted again and a pressure settled at her back, nestling along the length of her body. Warmth radiated from the new shape, healing her all the way down to her bones. Arms that should have been strange wrapped around her in harmony with Bucky’s arms and her body shuddered with a relief she hadn’t known she yearned for.

“Sleep, sweetheart. We’ll be here.”

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

Two of the world’s most powerful men watched as Lily finally gave in to the exhaustion she carried and relaxed into sleep. Their eyes met above her head. Slate grey to sky blue, they were different in colour but identical in the purpose that shone from their depths.

“She’ll be alright,” Bucky said. “She’s strong.”

Steve didn’t reply. He shuffled further around the tiny woman, trying to get as close to her as physically possible to soothe the inner voice whining at him to _fix this_. It was strange, holding her with this body. The last time he shared an embrace with his soulmate was before Erskine’s serum and they had been nearly the same size. Now he was a foot taller and a heck of a lot wider, more than double her. It was strange- but still _right_. This is where he belonged.

Lily hadn’t changed. She was still the same spitfire she’d been way back then, smirking at him from a stage in Prospect Park or flipping off the devil on her way by. She was hurting though and Steve wondered if that was new or if she had always been bruised on the inside and he’d just never seen it.

“By the look of your face, you really let Stark at it,” Bucky whispered with a grin. Speaking of bruises.

Steve shrugged, then regretted it when Lily stirred. He waited for her to relax again before replying.

“Like he said, I had it coming. I think he got most of it out of his system though. We managed to have a good talk afterwards.”

“Shovel talk seems a little redundant at this point.”

A huffed chuckle escaped him. Tony had given him less of a ‘shovel’ talk and more of an ‘inescapable global death warrant’ talk. The threat was vicious enough that Steve might have been alarmed except that at the end of his spiel Tony made him promise he’d never tell Lily that the talk had happened in the first place. Apparently there was a previous agreement regarding such a talk occurring and even the great Iron Man was scared of his sister.

“He’s concerned and quite frankly he has a right to be. He fought tooth and nail with everything he had to bring her back into his life and he’s scared to lose her. I understand that. I get that.”

Bucky’s hand reached out and grabbed his jaw to pull him close. With Lily sleeping safely between their bodies, Steve sought and found comfort in his lover’s lips.

“We’re together, Stevie,” Bucky murmured between kisses. “Ain’t nothin’ we can’t handle now.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All better?


	33. The Break House, Vermont (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn the details of Operation Glittering Eyepatch and there is movement in the White House.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darlings! Are you ready for a strategic reveal? And no, I'm not talking about Tony doing a strip tease. This isn't that fic. Sorry!
> 
> Please enjoy.
> 
> All my love, sweet peaches.
> 
> -Rubie
> 
>  
> 
> For Bibbi, my favourite worm, and Tam, my faithful friend.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_In a modest antechamber of the White House, a small collection of approved members of the press are seated before a red, white and blue draped lectern. The journalist’s expressions reflect their excitement and curious murmurs can be heard pondering the reason they had been summoned at such short notice to what is basically an exclusive briefing._

_The entrance of a suited entourage announces the arrival of the President of the United States, Matthew Ellis. The doors are secured behind him and flanked by secret servicemen.  Without pausing for pleasantries, a stern-faced Ellis marches directly to the waiting microphones and begins._

_“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for waiting. You have been invited here to receive information of a most significant nature, information that released early could cause undue panic and strain. That being the case, before I begin I remind you of your agreement prior to your attendance today that what we discuss will not be released to the public until nine a.m. tomorrow at the earliest.”_

_After waiting for confirmation of the agreement from each of the gathered members of the press, the President continues._

_“It is with regret that I must inform you that following a joint recommendation by the FBI and an independent counsel, an official investigation has been launched into allegations of gross misconduct against the Secretary of State, former General Thaddeus Ross. Due to the serious and frankly disturbing nature of these allegations, I hereby announce the immediate removal of Thaddeus Ross from his position as Secretary of State and all subsequent appointments within the United States government.”_

_With only a dozen journalists in attendance and all of them senior, there is no shoving or shouting to gain the President’s attention. Instead a middle-aged red head from a national news service is first to recover from the shock announcement and raises her hand._

_“Mr President, what is the nature of these allegations that would warrant an immediate dismissal? Are the public at risk?”_

_Ellis’s eyebrows meet in a deep frown. “Due to the ongoing investigation I am, of course, limited in what I can share. However, I can tell you that the allegations stem from a particularly revealing series of audio-visual surveillance and relate to a gross abuse of power involving a well-known female member of the former Secretary’s staff and her soulmates. As of right now, no new risks to the public have emerged.”_

_“Well-known? Was it Lily Evergreen?” another reporter asks, his stylus hovering above his StarkPad._

_“I am unable to confirm or deny that. What I can say is that the staff member was one of the highest ranking in the Secretary’s team and is extremely well-respected both inside and outside the department.”_

_The reporter grins and scribbles into his notes. A new journalist takes up the questioning._

_“Mr President, how did these allegations come about? You mentioned video surveillance? Whose? ”_

_Ellis nods. “Yes. Both official and private footage, provided by the staff member in question. She is continuing to assist the investigation.”_

_The original redheaded reporter regains the floor. “Mr President, I understand you are unable to reveal the identity of the woman involved in the allegations. However, on an unrelated note, are you able to confirm Lily Evergreen’s current status within the department at this time?”_

_A small twitch lifts the corner of Ellis’s lips. “Agent Evergreen is currently taking some personal leave. I am not at liberty to discuss the reasons why.”_

_“Thank you, Mr President. Is there anything further you can tell us?”_

_The President’s face returns to its former solemnity. He steeples his fingertips on the top of the lectern and gazes out at the gathered men and women of the press._

_“This matter is one that concerns me not only in my professional capacity as President of the United States but personally also. I am deeply,_ deeply _, affected by the alleged behaviour of a man I considered a friend. Rest assured that I will see to it that justice will be done not only for those involved in the matter but for the people of America who once trusted this man as I did.”_

 ^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

“I’ve been thinking about it. Quite a bit, actually. And naturally, being the genius I am, I figured it out. I’m Bosley. Lily’s Charlie. Rogers, Barnes and Wilson are the Angels and you… well, you’re the random client of this week’s episode.”

From within the blue glow of Friday’s projection, a holographic Fury narrowed his eye and glared. Tony leaned back in his kitchen chair and grinned, wielding a carrot stick with a flourish to emphasise his words. Sitting at the head of Lily’s farmhouse table surrounded by a mish-mash of country-chic furniture, urban spyware and futuristic tech, he looked like the mad king of a very strange castle but he couldn’t care less. It was amazing what three days without sleep, his sibling’s breakdown and what could very well be an approach of the end of the freedoms of the world could do to his ability to give a fuck.

“It’s little thoughts like these that keep me going, Fury. They make me happy,” he grinned.

Fury’s gaze followed the waving carrot stick as Tony dunked it back in its accompanying hummus. Yeah he was double-dipping in Lily’s bowl. He was a risk-taker.

“Is that so?” said the old agent. His easy going tone should have tipped Tony off to what was coming. “Well here’s another little thought for you. Agent Evergreen is the ranking member of her triad. Going by tradition, the three of them will use her name once they’re married, which I’m sure will happen just as fast as Rogers can make it. And that means in addition to Lily Evergreen Stark, you’re going to have Steven Grant Stark and James Buchanan Stark on your Christmas card list. How do you feel about _that_ little thought, huh _Stark?_ That one make you happy? Sure makes _me_ happy.”

Tony choked on his hummus and leaned his forehead on the wooden tabletop while he heaved deep breaths.

“You’re _evil_ ,” he finally gasped out.

Fury’s expression didn’t change. “I may well be. But if I’m evil, then Thaddeus Ross is the devil incarnate. And thanks to your Sleeping Beauty’s poorly timed personal dramas, we’re about to lose the only advantage we had over the guy. If this team doesn’t get its shit together in the next ten hours the entire Operation is sunk.”

A wave of mercury swept through Tony’s system, chilling his temper. He calmly returned his carrot stick to its plate, pushed it aside and got to his feet to stand immediately before Friday’s projection point.

“My sister is the longest serving active agent in this nation’s history. If she needs to take a day to deal with some of the horror she’s lived through, then fuck you, Fury, she takes a day.” Tony adjusted his suit jacket, smoothing its creases and buttoning it as though he was readying himself to leave the room. He hovered his finger over the tablet controlling the communication arrays while he continued, staring the former director down as he spoke. “Being soulmates with Maria Hill may have got you a ticket to this show, Fury, but damned if you’re essential to it. In fact, there’s only one person who **_is_** essential to it and if you’re finished insulting her then we can get back on task. If not, you can fuck right off back to Europe and go play by yourself like Romanoff.”

Silence.

One minute stretched into two and just when it looked as though Tony wouldn’t receive any kind of response, Fury _laughed_. Tony’s fingers froze above the disconnect button as the old agent on the other side put a hand on his stomach and let out a deep, rolling chuckle.

“Goddamn. God _damn_. Someone finally convinced Tony Stark to be a team player. I guess you really are her Bosley.”

“Amazing what happens when the people in charge actually give a shit if I live or die isn’t it? Now, are you ready to play along with _my_ super-secret boy band, Mr Client of the Week?”

Fury’s rumbling laughter petered out and he shook his head. “Calm down, Stark, I’m here to play. And not just for Maria. This Ross asshole has been busy with some real nasty fascist dictatorial shit and despite what you say about me being non-essential, things are going to move a lot smoother if you use my intel. Over the past few weeks I’ve outlined most of it for Evergreen already but now if you’re taking point I’ll need to bring you up to speed.”

Drama concluded, Tony unbuttoned his jacket and sat down again, waving his hand at the screen as he did. At his movement, Friday brought up half a dozen new displays filled with an assortment of scrolling data, maps and schematics. “No need. Unlike certain fallen spy agencies who shall remain nameless, my sister and I don’t compartmentalise information to the point of stupidity. She told me all about Ross’s HYDRA connections, how he swooped into the vacuum caused by SHIELD’s downfall and took who and what he wanted for his secret projects. She also told me about the facilities where he’s holding all his ‘people of interest’ and how Operation Glittering Eyepatch plans to take them down. Four of them, right?”

“That’s right. Minimum security facility, moderate security facility, maximum security. And the last one is for the children he’s taken,” said Fury. His voice was flat and professional like he was discussing furniture storage. After a career like Fury’s, Tony wondered if the old agent could even feel real emotions anymore and had a brief but sincere surge of pity for Maria. Fury continued. “Did Evergreen brief you about Ross’s lab in Philadelphia?”

Tony scoffed in disgust. “Yeah, I know there was talk about Ross having a secret lab. Why else do you think Stark Industries has kept Lily’s medical needs in-house? There’s no way I’m letting that asshole near her DNA, not when we’re pretty sure he’s also got access to all the old SSR crap, including _their_ collection of Steve Rogers’ personal biohazards. The probability of any organic material from the 40s being of any use now is low but there’s always some element of risk.”

Tony rolled his shoulders to keep the tension from showing in his stance. He tried to steady his emotions, to stay objective and not let the nature of Ross’s actions cloud his thinking but the possible existence of a lab set on duplicating the serum his father had helped develop was literally the stuff of Tony’s nightmares. Ross and his cronies weren’t kindly German scientists with squeaky clean ethics and the morals of a saint like Erskine. Oh no, any lab under Ross’s control would be sure to take the direct route to Zola-level evil and that, quite frankly, was not the sort of world Tony wanted to share.

“Consider that rumour confirmed, Ross’s lab is unfortunately very real and well on its way to being functional. So how are you going to go about this, Acting Operation Commander? I’ve got the latest intel on those warehouses right here plus the location of the now verified lab. You want to call your sister in yet or do you think you might be able to handle it?” Fury asked. The sneer in his tone made Tony yearn for the ability to throttle someone through a projection. He was certain that there was a small jack-hole part of Fury that would be distinctly satisfied to see Tony and this whole operation fail despite the world shattering consequences, and it made his blood boil.

A discreet cough from the kitchen threshold stalled Tony’s snarky reply. Steve Rogers, somehow still looking heroic despite being unshaven and wearing nothing but a pair of flannel pyjama pants and a cotton singlet, lifted the empty glass he was carrying.

“Excuse me, I, uh… don’t mean to interrupt. I was just coming to fetch Lily a drink for when she wakes up.”

A quick wave from Tony had Friday dimming some of the holographic data screens that had overtaken the kitchen to clear a path and the three men -well, two men and one projection of a man- were quiet as Steve walked over to the fridge. Tony fidgeted with the collection of tablets in front of him and tried to ignore the agonisingly awkward silence while Steve refilled his glass. The fact was not lost on Tony that once upon a time it would have been _Steve_ standing here and heading up the operation discussions, not him, and the once-glorified leader was now relegated to being a serving-boy for his soulmate.

“Well. I guess I’ll leave you to it,” Steve said, moving back towards the doorway with his refilled glass of juice. “Unless you want me to fetch Li- ,”

“No,” snapped Tony. He cleared his throat and moderated his tone. “No, leave her. I’ve dealt with the Canadians, Wakanda is doing well with _Brass Balls, Yoko_ is on track and kick-off for _Eyepatch_ isn’t until tomorrow. Honestly, some time with her soulmates is probably the best thing for her right now.”

A muffled snort came from Friday’s projection spot and Tony rolled his eyes. “Fury, it’s like you don’t even know who I am. My tech puts you with _your_ soulmate _right now_ so don’t give me any of that hard man, love-is-a-weakness crap.”

The corners of Steve’s mouth twitched. He gave a short nod and went to leave when Tony jumped to his feet and called out to stop him.

“Rogers. Listen. Maybe you could uh…”

His sentence trailed off into nothing as Tony realised he had no idea how to voice the thoughts in his head. He didn’t really have a frame of reference on how to bridge the gaping void between him and Steve, despite the relationship they once enjoyed. Except of course, Lily and the entirety of the free world were depending on him to do just that. Tony gave himself a mental shake. He was Tony Motherfucking Stark, not some wilting wallflower. He tried again.

“Steve. Would you take a look at this with me?”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up but quickly lowered again as the formerly star spangled man schooled his face to a painfully obvious neutrality.

“Yeah, I could do that. You sure you want me to?”

Tony shrugged, angling his body away like he could deflect some of the awkward. “Yeah, sure. I mean, you are the master strategist of truth and justice, right?”

“And you’re the genius billionaire playboy philanthropist,” Steve replied with a shy grin, completing their oft-repeated inside joke and making Tony’s stomach flip.

Ignorant of Tony’s inner turmoil, Rogers walked forward and set Lily’s glass next to Tony’s discarded carrot plate, then took up a similar position at Tony’s side to face the arc of holographic displays. There was a physical progression as Steve Rogers straightened his spine, set his jaw and slipped into the well-worn role of Captain and Commander, standing at rest and scanning the data with that famous Captain America intensity. Weight he hadn’t even realised he was carrying lifted from Tony’s chest and he sucked in a deep lungful of air. It felt good, this. Having Steve here with him at the helm. It felt almost a little like hope.

“Not so much with the playboy part these days, Cap. Not anymore,” Tony joked, hoping to dispel some of the feelings bubbling inside him by doing what Starks did best and deflecting like hell.

The cerulean glow of Friday’s holograms danced across the side of Steve’s face as he turned the focus of that intense gaze and smiled. “Then lets get a plan together so you can go be with your soulmate too. Deal?”

Tony’s mouth opened but no sound came out so he closed it again and just nodded. That would be fine.

“And it’s about fucking time. Now that we’ve all kissed and made up can we _please_ get on with saving the goddamn world?”

The former teammates shared a look and a smirk. Just like old times.

“Yes, Fury.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Many thanks to Biblioworm for this magnificent imagining of ~~Charlie's~~ Lily's Angels. Aren't those 70s outfits amazing?!?!

Someone, please write this fic. I would read the heck out of it!

 

 

 


	34. The Safe House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My darlings. Beautiful people.
> 
> Thank you for supporting me and this little fic. You have no idea what your continued love and loyalty means to me.
> 
> All my heart  
> Rubie

 

* * *

 

 

 

When the mattress shifted for the second time that morning, Bucky tightened his grip on the warm body enclosed in his arms. Earlier Steve had woken him with his departure and Bucky accepted it because once Steve was awake he rarely went back to sleep and it was better he got up than risk disturbing Lily’s rest. This time though, Bucky wasn’t letting go so easily. He buried his nose into the sweet smelling curls currently using his naked chest as a pillow and tangled his hand in the smooth satin of Lily’s camisole.

“Buuuucky…”

The voice calling his name was all syrup and Bucky drank it in, wanted to drown in it. His arms didn’t loosen an inch. Lily tapped his pectoral with her fingertips.

“Bucky, baby… I need to get up,”

“No.”

“We’ve got to go save the world,”

“World always needs saving.”

Lily’s laughter was light and breathy and warm, and his lips pulled into a smile of their own accord. How many times had he fantasised this very situation, a sleepy half-naked Lily wrapped against him as he held her? Her fingertips drew loose circles on his chest that left a line of goose bumps in their wake and a glowing heat spread from her touch like a puddle of honey. There were no armed henchmen bashing at the door, no hostile surveillance to worry about. Rushed kisses in the face of danger could be exchanged for long, lazy touches and a rolling fire and he savoured it for the sweet luxury it was.

“Five more minutes. But only because you’re cute,”

If Lily was trying for stern she missed the mark. He tilted his head to kiss the part in her hair and she swept her palm down his body and across the planes of his stomach. The pale strap of her slip that was just as smooth and flawless as her skin fell over her shoulder like a silent invitation and he groaned. Restraint would only get him so far with his beautiful soulmate awake and tender in his arms and as much as he didn’t want to spoil the calm of the morning, he was only human.

“Five minutes would never be enough,” he murmured, kissing her again.

The goddess who shared his bed showed no pity for his gentlemanly predicament. She eased herself up his body and slid her thigh along his, skin against skin. He loosened his grip at her waist and she rose on her elbow to look down at him, her hair a falling curtain that kept the whole world at bay. A siren’s smile lit her face with devious intent.

“Once we save the world, you can take all the time you need,” she purred.

Oh he was going to hell in pieces, each package smelling like lavender and sex and tied with a winter blue bow. And he didn’t mind at all. Still reluctant to touch her skin with his metal hand, Bucky used his natural one to sweep her hair behind her ear and cup her jaw. With the lightest pressure, he pulled her lips down to his and lost himself in her radiance. He kissed the edge of her mouth, her cheeks. He kissed her nose at the bridge, then the adorable pointed tip. He kissed her eyelids and eyebrows and was midway through a line of kisses across her forehead when she broke away, laughing.

“Don’t want to waste my minutes,” he said, chasing her for another kiss. “Don’t know when I might get more, I’m off to war again.”

He thought she might laugh that glorious silver bell laugh at his teasing but he was wrong. Lily’s demeanour switched and she pulled right back to sit up and Bucky let her go without complaint. Her eyes were dark and serious when she spoke, tethering him with steel bands.

“You don’t have to do this. Yoko, Eyepatch, not any of it. You know that, right?” she asked.

Something large and ungainly took up residence in his throat. He would have turned his head but Lily grabbed his face with both hands in a surprisingly strong grip. She curled over him and pressed her forehead against his.

“Nobody can force you to do a damn thing, Bucky. Not Tony, not Steve, not me. You can choose. You can say no.”

He closed his eyes, not wanting her to see the pain that ripped through him like a winter wind. She was right – he didn’t want to fight a war like this, he never had. He never wanted to join the army, never wanted to be given a target and aimed like a cannon, told to march and destroy in the name of the greater good. He hadn’t volunteered for Zola’s cutting block. He hadn’t asked to be turned into a monster with the ability to kill a man in seconds with nothing but his bare hands, to be told to do so and more for seventy years. He did those things because his choice had been stripped from him. He wasn’t able to say no.

And now, now Lily looked at him with those lake blue eyes and told him he had a choice with a voice that didn’t waver and a conviction that shone like the sun. He could say no, she said. He could say no and she would still love him, he was sure of it. He could watch her and Steve climb onto their separate jets, send them each on their righteous crusades and wave them goodbye. He could stay in her house, live amongst her things, eat her food and never again pick up a gun and she would still love him.

She told him he could say no.

She might as well tell him he could choose to stop breathing. Technically, he could say no– right up until his body caved in on itself. His heart and his soul existed well outside the bounds of his chest, divided between two sets of blue eyes that were so different and yet exactly the same. His heart and soul walked distinct from his own person, disguised as two angels, one blonde and one dark, and he could slide a blade between his own ribs easier than let either of them wander onto a battlefield without him.

“Bucky…”

With gentle pressure, Bucky moved Lily’s hands away and slipped out of bed. He went to the window and gazed out at a forest of Vermont hardwoods dappled in the grey morning sunlight. Lily tugged on her dressing gown and crept over to join him, and when he pulled her in to his side she wrapped her arms around his waist and let her head fall against him. Together they watched the world in silence, until Bucky found his voice.

“I want more than five minutes,” he said.

Lily squeezed his waist. “I know.”

“I want more than five minutes with you and I want us all to stop running. I want us to be safe.”

“I know.”

A woodpecker flitted across a row of tree stumps at the edge of Lily’s yard, stopping and bouncing on each one before moving on. With a few lazy strokes of its wings, it flew back beyond the tree line and disappeared. Lily shivered and Bucky ran his hand along her arm.

“When do you leave?” he asked.

“Soon. Maria and Pepper are coming to get me, then we’ll fly back to New York and go directly to the studio.”

“And me and Steve?”

Lily shrugged. “I don’t know. Soon. Tony is downstairs working out specifics.”

His five minutes had well and truly passed. Any moment now Lily would drop her arms and withdraw from his embrace. She would her gather her things and walk away, marching headfirst into a danger he knew was there but couldn’t protect her from. She would take the pieces of his heart and his soul and she would hold them up to the sun to be judged by god and man and there was nothing he could do to stop her.

“You’ll make sure Steve doesn’t do anything stupid, won’t you?” Lily asked.

Bucky snorted. Watching that punk twenty four hours a day wouldn’t stop him doing something stupid if he truly felt the need and they all knew it. Although even with his alarming propensity towards ill-timed heroics, it wasn’t Steve that Bucky was worried about. Dismantling Ross’s secret facilities was a task they were well suited to and had the experience to back it up. It would be dangerous work, yes, but nothing they hadn’t come across before and they had reinforcements in the form of Stark and Fury, Toffa and his Canadians and Phil Coulson and the new SHIELD. No, Steve would be fine. Lily, though, was deliberately turning into the spotlight and only God knew what creepers would scuttle out from the woodwork to attack her. She was strong and she was fierce and she had proven just how well she could protect herself on a battlefield but she wouldn’t _be_ on a battlefield. She could have all the rent-a-cops in the state surrounding the studio and it wouldn’t be enough to stop a truly committed assailant. Bucky knew this with clear certainty because in years gone by he’d _been_ that assailant.

“Hey Bucky,”

He looked down.

“I’m sorry I shot you.”

Unbidden, a laugh bubbled up deep in his guts. It roiled and curled and grew until he was leaning on the window ledge cackling like a loon and Lily was holding him up more than cuddling him. With a hiccup still in his throat, Bucky wiped the laughter from his eyes.  

“S’alright, doll. I shot Steve and he forgave me.”

From downstairs Tony called out to announce an incoming transport. Lily grinned big and open, nothing at all like her glamour shots or publicity stills, and pulled away from his side.

“So if Steve shoots me, then we’ve come full circle and all’s square?” she teased, moving backwards across the room.

 “No more shooting each other!”

 

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

“Captain. It’s been a long time.”

Maria stepped forward and clasped his hand like the last two years were only a dream and Steve sighed in relief at the lack of awkwardness. He and the formidable deputy director had grown close during his work with SHIELD and although it was understandable, Steve would have been disappointed if his recent actions had soured things between them.

“Ms Hill. Pembroke, rather. You’re looking well.”

His former SHIELD commander chuckled and moved over to lean against the wooden fence that marked out the section of Lily’s yard they used to land the jets. She pat the wood beside her and Steve obeyed her direction. He wasn’t trying to flatter her – she did look good. Trim as ever in her designer suit, with an intelligent gleam and sun-kissed skin, Maria looked like she could take on a tiger pack and win without an unsteady breath.  

“If you’re saying I look like I run twenty miles three times a day in heels, uphill and through snow then I agree. Chasing after Nick was nothing compared to your Lily.”

Steve laughed out loud and slipped a hand inside his jeans pocket to rub the lid of the little box he kept there. _His Lily_ , she’d said. He liked that.

Maria shot him a curious glance. At least Steve was pretty sure that was what that eyebrow twitch meant, he was out of practice at translating her facial tics. He realised he’d taken too long to respond.

“I, uh..” he coughed. “Thank you for everything you’ve done, Maria. Lily says you’ve been a brick and it’s a relief to know you’ll be watching her back over the next while.”

 She hummed and turned her face into the morning sun. About thirty feet away Tony and Pepper strolled side by side, coming back from their walk in the woods. Their arms were close enough to brush with each step and Tony had his head tilted right down to listen closely to whatever Pepper was telling him.

“Not going to sugar coat it Steve, it’ll be a rough one. There’s going to be a lot of unhappy hornets after Lily kicks their nest on the world stage.”

Tension coiled in his gut, the frustration that he felt whenever he thought of being left behind again while Lily pursued her dangerous goals. Maybe if he’d actually thought about what he was doing before he did it and hadn’t burned all his bridges in his eagerness to help Bucky, he would be in a better position to help Lily now. Instead of lurking in the background like dirty muscle he could be with her on stage, protecting her from right by her side. Yet if Steve was with Lily in New York, he wouldn’t be with Bucky while they took out Ross’s facilities and he couldn’t let that happen either. Regardless of which direction he was pulled he was abandoning one of his mates and that fact was killing him. What he wouldn’t give to have both halves of his soul together.

The door to the house banged. Lily emerged from the shadow of her back porch and Steve was sure at least one of his lungs collapsed. Stunning didn’t cover it but he had no other word to describe her in his newly emptied brain. Swapping her class As for modern clothes was a good tactical move, separating herself from her military background while a light personalisation gave subtle nods to her 40s history. Her navy blue suit was sleek and form fitting in a way that would have been scandalous in their time while her bangs were rolled and her makeup was classic. The tall pin heels on her shoes were straight from the latest collections however her stockings carried that long seam up into the shadows of her skirt that had haunted him in his dreams eighty years prior. Tactics, it was all tactics, but the Lord would strike him from the face of the Earth if he said it wasn’t doing things for him.

“Uhhh…”

Lily’s ankles didn’t so much as hint at wobbling as she strode up the gravel path, as sure-footed as when she wore combat boots. He was still open mouthed and drooling like a Neanderthal by the time she made it to his side which was much to her amusement if her grin was anything to go by.

“Sergeant Barnes,” Maria straightened up and extended her hand to where Bucky stood at Lily’s side. He’d followed her out. Steve probably should have felt at least a little bit bad he hadn’t noticed.

“Ms Pembroke. A pleasure,” said Bucky.

Lily’s confidence was clearly contagious because Bucky gave Maria a smirk straight from the streets of Brooklyn then took the hand she’d extended, turned it and kissed her knuckles. Maria’s cheeks didn’t colour but she did let her hand linger in Bucky’s a touch longer than protocol dictated and her voice was a little breathy when she asked Bucky to please, use her first name.  

“See you went with the local designer over the Choos. American. Good choice.”

Perhaps it was best that Steve wasn’t going with Lily to New York. If his spatial awareness was so affected that he hadn’t heard _Tony Stark’s_ approach, he definitely wasn’t at the top of his game. Bucky and Lily allowed space for Tony and Pepper to join their clique and Pepper further complimented Lily’s choice in footwear. Her arm hooked into Tony’s and the way they were both smiling left Steve with the idea that maybe it wasn’t entirely for balance.

“So. Is that it? Any _unfinished business_ before you storm the castle?” Tony asked. While he directed his question to Lily, his eyes drifted over to Steve and one of his facial muscles twitched.

“I don’t think so,” Lily replied, smoothing the pocket of her jacket. “Ladies, are we good to go?”

Maria nodded and started towards to the jet when Pepper grabbed her arm.

“Wait! Wasn’t there, uh… something?” she said, letting her voice trail off.

They stood in awkward silence while several voiceless conversations took place. Steve was watching Pepper and Tony try to solve the world’s problems with their eyebrows when Bucky kicked him hard in the ankle. Slate grey eyes glared bullets into him, then flicked down to Steve’s pocket and back up.

Oh shit.

Oh _shit_.

Steve coughed, but it did no good and the frogs refused to budge. He reached into his pocket and took out a familiar little matchbox that was scraped and faded with time, and treasured all the same. When Bucky stepped in close beside him it bolstered his courage enough to look up into Lily’s beautiful face. Her eyes shone with emotion and her lips were hidden behind manicured fingertips and Steve wondered if she would cry like she did all those years ago.

Time to give it all he had. He squared up and looked Lily straight in the eye.

“The last time I saw you off on a mission was in nineteen forty three and I was too young and too foolish to tell you how I really felt. I gave you my mother’s ring and you gave me a promise to talk when you came home and I let you go without another word. I’ve regretted that ever since.”

Lily’s breath hitched. Though his ears rang like he was stuck inside a church bell, Steve ploughed on with the bull-headedness he was famous for.

“I should have told you then how I felt. And I didn’t. And then you were gone and I’d never said it. Now there is another mission and I have to let you go again, but this time it’s not going to be without me telling you exactly how I feel.”

Steve took Lily’s trembling hands in his own and bittersweet memory doubled his vision. He set the little matchbox in her palm and curled her fingers around it.

“I love you. I always have and I always will. This ring is yours. Will you accept it?”

Lily closed her eyes and nodded. Relief swept the bones from his limbs and his knees gave way. He stumbled and would have fallen except that Bucky caught him because he was Bucky and that’s what he did. Leaning on Bucky’s strength, he righted himself. He shared a look with the man who was his soulmate in everything but Words and received a tight smile in response. It was his turn now.

Steve kissed Lily’s cheekbone then moved aside and Lily’s face flashed confusion until Bucky stepped in and took her hands from Steve’s, matchbox and all. The men looked over to where Tony watched them like a raptor and waited. Hidden behind red tinted sunglasses, Tony’s expression was inscrutable but he tilted his head in the barest excuse for a nod and tension melted from Bucky’s shoulders. He turned his attention back to their patient soulmate, brought their joined hands up to his mouth and kissed them. Steve held his breath, knowing how hard Bucky had worked to overcome his fear and insecurity to find the right words to express himself. He’d practiced it for hours.

“Lily. The day you saved my life, you gave me this ring and told me to trust you. I do. With everything I was and everything I am now, I trust you. With my heart and my soul, I trust you and as I return the precious gift you trusted _me_ with, I give them both to you.”

Steve was ready to burst, too full of love and pride to contain it. In tandem he and Bucky knelt in the white gravel at Lily’s feet, supplicants before their beloved. After inspiring thousands of troops hundreds of times over, after rallying his own teams with words that soared from unrehearsed inspiration, Steve’s voice broke as he asked the most important question of his life.

“Darcy Lillian Lewis Evergreen Stark, will you be ours as we are yours?”

Behind him came a halfway aborted squeal but Steve didn’t turn to see whose it was. His attention was riveted on the woman before him, she who could destroy him with a single word. He would never have forgiven himself if she’d left without knowing how he and Bucky felt but he was no fool. He knew he wasn’t the man the world once claimed him to be, the right and noble champion. He had little to his name besides a list of mistakes and regrets a mile long and he sure as hell couldn’t provide for her the way he’d been taught a husband should. Hell, it wasn’t even legal for him to be in her country let alone her home. However Steve Rogers had never backed down from a fight in his life and he wasn’t going to now, not just for himself but for Bucky too. He would work to become the man his soulmates deserved every day for the rest of his life if only he was afforded the chance.

Lily stared at the box Bucky still pressed into her hand. Seconds ticked over and the gravel dug into Steve’s knees and still they waited. A lonely tear streaked down Lily’s cheek and she hiccupped a tiny laugh.

“You called me Darcy.”

Steve opened his mouth ready to apologise but was cut off when Lily tore her hand from Bucky’s and threw herself at them with all of her enhanced strength. The three of them flew  backwards on the ground and Steve found his lap full of a laughing, crying, soulmate. She gripped the collar of his shirt and pulled him up for a kiss, then reached over and did the same to a grinning Bucky.

“Is that a yes, doll?” Bucky asked. With an elbow on his knee and that smirk on his face Bucky could have been relaxing at a beachside resort instead of scrabbling around in gravel dust after being dropped on his ass by their girl.

“Yes. Yes it’s a yes.” Tear streaked and dishevelled, Lily was beautiful. She tipped her head back and laughed and Steve wrapped his arms around her waist so the angels couldn’t claim her as one of their own. Bucky retrieved his mother’s ring from its box and slid it back onto Lily’s finger where it belonged and for that one brilliant moment everything was alright with the world.

  

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a fucking bastard. By my estimation I wrote about twelve thousand words to end up with these four and it was like pulling teeth the whole way.
> 
> Thankfully I had my own angels helping me through. Tam, Bibbi, you fucking goddesses, it wouldn't have been possible without you.


	35. Launch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a teeny chapter to get y'all in the mood. Don't worry, the next one is close behind!
> 
> As always, thanks to my gorgeous Tam and my wonderful Bibbi and to all of you who are still with me, ESPECIALLY the astoundingly generous souls who have followed this story from the beginning. YOU made this story happen.
> 
> Love  
> Rubie

 

* * *

 

 

 

In the largest network studio in New York, Maria Pembroke, formerly Maria Hill of SHIELD, rapped her knuckles against a private door. Knowing she was expected, she entered without waiting for a response and skipped the preamble.

“The producer says they’re ready for you to join them.”

Lily Evergreen stood up from her chair at the lit mirror and moved to the middle of her extravagant room. With a slow twirl, she invited Maria to look her over for imperfections and Maria dutifully scanned her boss from toe to tip. There were no imperfections.

Lily pressed a diamond on her bejewelled bracelet.

“Friday, redirect resources from all non-essential systems into securing the Alpha comm line.”

“Right away, Agent Evergreen.”

Maria met Lily’s resolute gaze with one of her own. It was time.

 

 

 

In the stately offices of one of the most powerful women on the planet, CEO of Stark Industries Virginia Potts stared across her meeting table at Former SSR Agent Martin McNamara. With a heavy shroud of tension over them, they clutched each other’s hands like parents waiting for news at a hospital.

The conference speaker chimed an incoming call from Lily, and Pepper jumped a mile. Mac tightened his grip on her hands with the confidence of a man whose last job was a week ago instead of sixty years prior.

“This is Operation Alpha requesting status confirmation. _Biceps_ are you in position?”

“Ye-es?” squeaked Pepper.

“Affirmative, _biceps_ in position,” said Mac, taking the lead. “Awaiting your mark, Operation Alpha.”

 

 

 

In an ancient warehouse in industrial Berlin, His Majesty King T’Challa of Wakanda paced outside the door to a small office. Watching him stir up the dust was Airman First Class Samuel Wilson, who sat against the closed door like he’d been kicked out by his lover.

T’Challa’s phone was a siren and Lily Evergreen’s voice reverberated in the stagnant air.

“ _Brass balls_ , are you in position?”

Sam got to his feet and banged four times on the wooden door. A beat later, a series of knocks returned from the other side and Sam nodded in confirmation.

“We are in position, Agent Evergreen,” said the King. “We also await your mark.”

 

 

 

In the night time sky thousands of feet above a remote storage facility, hidden behind dense clouds and super advanced stealth technology, Anthony Edward Stark steered a quinjet with lazy grace. To his left Captain Steven Rogers braced an elbow on the top of Stark’s chair and on his right sat a solemn Sergeant James Barnes. Between them the air hummed not only with the purr of the quinjet’s engines but with the uneasy restlessness of soldiers who had been told to hurry up and wait.

“ _Glittering eyepatch_ , are you in position?”

Stark tapped at the jet’s info display, illuminating the trio of jets flying in formation behind them.

“Flying five by five, _sorellina_ , team eyepatch is in position. On your mark.”

 

 

 

“Confirmations received.”

In the studio’s dressing room, Lily Evergreen’s eyes closed and her lips murmured a silent prayer before her voice rang out as clear and proud as an Imperial princess.

“Today we stand across borders and across cultures to proclaim the global truth that all people are created equal, that all people are born with the right to freedom. And whenever it is threatened, be it in nineteen forty two or be it now, there will be those who are willing to give everything they have to defend that right. What we begin here will echo throughout the halls of history not because of our bravery or our skill or our sacrifice but because of the lives we save and the liberties we restore.”

“In the immortal words of Agent Peggy Carter, you can only kill a man once, so let’s make it count. By Odin’s glittering eyepatch, by Thor’s bulging biceps. By Loki’s brass balls and by Frigga’s crown. On my mark.”

“Launch.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GAME ON, BITCHES!


	36. Yoko - part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All of the action in this chapter occurs within a few hours.  
> Part One of Yoko sees us:
> 
> in New York with Maria and Lily  
> at Ross's kidnapped-children's facility with Tony, Steve and Bucky  
> in Berlin with T'Challa, Sam, Clint and Freddie  
> at the UN for a special meeting  
> at Stark Industries with Pepper and Mac  
> and watching various news snippets from across the country

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darlings! Told you I wouldn't make you wait too long!
> 
> For your entertainment and delight, may I present the next chapter in our final section of this fic.
> 
> All my love, beautiful people.
> 
> Rubie

 

* * *

 

 

 

_News anchor Diane Friedman sits at her glossy white desk opposite a middle-aged, professionally dressed man whose name is displayed on the screen as Cormac Thackery, private media consultant. Diane smiles down the camera to thank the previous segment’s presenter, then swivels in her chair and turns her attention to Thackery._

_“How about that, rare orchids so late in the season. And speaking of rare orchids, Mr Thackery, what can you tell us about the most anticipated media event of the year? Lily Evergreen, back from the dead and finally ready to speak to America.”_

_Thackery grunts and smooths his tie over his belly. His teeth flash in a smile that’s gone too fast to count and the powder on his face does little to hide the sweat on his reddened brow. He wets his lips._

_“Lily Evergreen might be only just now embracing a dialogue with the media but that doesn’t mean she’s been a hermit. Intimate dinners with the President, exclusive events with foreign dignitaries, living it up on Stark’s coin, she’s been a busy girl. And now with this fracas with Ross, it’s a good time to soak up some public sympathy.”_

_Diane blinks and tilts her head. “Setting aside the fact the employee in the Ross case has not been identified for legal reasons, and the fact_ Agent _Evergreen’s personal fortune would no doubt be more than sufficient to fund whatever lifestyle she chose, what are your predictions for this evening’s discussion?”_

_“Sympathy, as I said. Mark my words, Evergreen’s an opportunist and she’s out for Ross’s job any way she can get it. She means to drag his name through the mud. Secretary Ross has done nothing but protect- ,”_

_“_ Former _Secretary Ross,” Diane interrupts. She glances offscreen and one of her fingers flicks up in a confirmation. “Thank you for your, ah, interesting opinions, Mr Thackery but I’m afraid that’s all we have time for. Coming up next, join us as we broadcast Lily Evergreen, live in New York for the first time since nineteen forty two.”_

 

The network’s logo dances on screen, then dissolves into the next production.

 

Inside the largest studio, an unseen announcer introduces ‘the original, the inimitable, American’s own Agent Sweetheart, _Lily Evergreen!’_ to the thunderous applause of a waiting audience of hundreds _._ The woman in question strides out onto a raised platform and cameras and microphones record her every movement to send it out to the millions watching at home. The audience stamps their feet and whistles and screams, and Lily smiles and waves as she walks to where a lonely microphone stand waits. A woman calls out asking Lily to marry her and Lily laughs. A shining gold band on her finger catches the overhead lighting.

“Thank you. Thank you. This is wonderful. You’re too kind.”

The camera shifts to the front row of the audience where a pair of dark haired girls dressed in fake SSR uniforms hold a homemade sign proclaiming Lily as their hero. The camera pans across the studio, pausing on more costumes and signs and crying fans before finally resettling on Lily. She lifts the microphone from its stand.

“Good evening to you, friends. As you may have guessed, my name is Lily Evergreen.”

She smiles her glamour smile and the audience screams again.

“Friends, I would like to talk to you today about freedom.”

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

Twenty minutes after he’d found his perch, Bucky watched through his special vision lenses as the furious heat signature that was Steve moved through Ross’s facility like a righteous hurricane. Stark was a master behind the technical wizardry that was his quinjet’s operations-room-slash-cockpit, barking orders across the shared comm line and Steve responded like he was made for it. Which… well, to be fair, he was. Toffa, who was _absolutely_ ‘retired’ and in no way an active agent, followed behind Steve’s trail of destruction calming children and shepherding them back to Coulson’s team like the protective Canadian bear he was. Bucky would put good money on it that at least a few of those children would find their way to a certain grumpy Australian’s fishing vessel sooner or later.

“Barnes,” came Stark’s voice in his ear. “Company incoming from the North. Two SUVs full of kid-abusing ass hats.”

“On it.”

Bucky grinned. Time to do his part for the greater good.

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

With the microphone safely in Lily’s hand, one of the crew ducks on stage to remove the stand. There is now nothing in between Lily and her audience as she slowly circles her stage.

“Forgive my self-indulgence, friends, but I’d like to tell you a little about me,” she begins. “When I was a girl, I never really belonged anywhere. I was always too loud, too brash. Too cheeky, too inquisitive, too masculine, too argumentative. Too **too**. It wasn’t until I was eighteen and met a girl who would become the sister to my heart that I discovered what unconditional acceptance was. For the first time I had someone who cared for me just the way I was, metaphorical warts and all. I realised that I didn’t need to hide or to change to suit others’ preferences. I could be myself and that was enough. In this, I was lucky. I realise that now.”

The room is silent, hanging on to Lily’s every word.

“This freedom to be my true self was one I valued. I went to war to defend it too, not only for myself but for others. The freedom of equality, of life and liberty and belief. The freedom to live without discrimination and prejudice. The freedom to love and raise a family in peace. There are more. Thirty of them, in fact, thanks to Mrs Roosevelt. If your memory requires it, these freedoms can be found within the United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights of nineteen forty eight. Yes. THAT United Nations.”

A few voices rumble in the stands and Lily nods along in agreement. She purses her lips and a crease appears between her perfect eyebrows.

“The Charter of Human Rights was bought and paid for with the blood of millions of men and women. _Millions_. And yet I have awoken in a time where that seems to have been forgotten. The very organisation who brought about the Charter’s existence has turned away from it, aided in fact by our own government. Powerful voices are telling us that not only is it their right to take away the freedoms of people considered different but that they _must_. We are being told that people who are considered different are a danger, a threat, a poison to our community when it is instead these _powerful_ figures who are a danger, a threat and a poison.”

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

With Sam walking in his wake like a poor man’s Okoye, T’Challa strode forward with the confidence of not only a King but a King with genuine moral superiority. Regardless of the fact the Barton idiots had found the most revolting abandoned factory in Berlin that smelled like it had been used for something involving oil and piss, the King walked through it like Moses splitting the sea. His stride didn’t even falter as he dodged something unmentionable stuck on the floor. Sam was fucking impressed.

Sam settled himself just inside the door, blocking the exit. To his right, Barton had done the same at the room’s only window and leaning against the wall at the back of the room was the reason neither Sam nor T’Challa could be called the sexiest motherfuckers in Germany – that devil with an angel’s smile, Freddie-fucking-Barton. _Unf._ Sam was in a happily monogamous… something… with Natasha, and Freddie was Barton’s through and through but damn son, even if he was on a diet it was nice to look at the menu. He lifted his chin in Freddie’s direction and received a wink in response.

The three sad looking old white men who were the reason Sam and T’Challa came to Berlin in the first place sat on shitty plastic chairs at a trestle table that from all appearances had barely survived an apocalyptic event. At the King’s approach, they stood and bowed their heads as though pretending their mamas taught them manners could make up for the fact they were corrupt assholes who sold out their own.

“Your Majesty,” the middle ass-wipe wheedled. “You are as gracious as you are generous, please- ,”

“Shut. Up.” T’Challa said. He held up a hand and stared down his nose. “You are weak, all of you, and your peoples have suffered for it. My men- ,” he indicated the Bartons, “have protected you as you fled your respective countries, helped you to find sanctuary here in Berlin. I am willing to hear the information you claim to have, the so-called _blackmail_ that Secretary Ross used to coerce your support for the Sokovia Accords. But no more than that. Do not fool yourselves that we are allies.”

The leader of Team Ultimate Loser nodded in a vigorous attempt to cause himself an upper spinal injury. “Of course. Of course. My apologies and my- ,”

“Enough. Prove to me your claims of what Ross has done.”

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

Back in the direct centre of the stage, Lily lines up the camera and sets her jaw.

“Once America was considered the land of the free and the home of the brave. Now we need to remember how to _be_ brave if we’re going to stay free. And just like the strongest rope is made from dozens of unique threads and the most beautiful castles are made from thousands of individual stones, we too are better together. _Humanity_ benefits from our unity.

“We must stand as one and reject these false claims of otherness. As mothers and daughters, as fathers and sons, as companions and neighbours and lovers, as _people_ we must stand as one. We are stronger together.

“I understand that many of you feel quite ambivalent towards superheroes these days. Perhaps some have even given up on the idea of heroes altogether. I’m not one of those people. I _know_ heroes. I have fought with them, laughed with them, loved them. I walk beside them every day. And I think you do too. The heroes that I see are the teachers standing in front of their students when their schools are threatened. They are the stand owners who need every sale but refuse to serve someone who used a slur against one of their customers. They are the people who put their own enjoyment on hold to check the boy crying in the nightclub bathroom. They are the taxi drivers who have already clocked off after a twelve hour shift but still offer a free ride to the grandmother and her grandchildren because it is dark and raining and they hope someone would do the same for their own Abuela. They are the people who will kneel in order to boost someone else. These people are heroes and they deserve to be celebrated and protected.”

Lily pauses. She lifts her chin to challenge anyone who would argue, then continues.

“I do not consider myself to be a hero, super or otherwise. However I will defend those who are. To all the heroes out there, _tell me how to protect you_. Tell me how to spread your message of love and of acceptance and of hope and I will do it to the very best of my ability. Please, find me. Tell me how I can help because it is _your_ America that I fought to preserve and it is _your_ America that I want to live in. _Find me.”_

The corner of her mouth lifts in a crooked smile that has never graced a promotional.

“In nineteen thirty seven I swiped on some lipstick and straightened my seams and I went to war. And I’m not done yet. Be brave. Be free. Protect the heroes. And find me.”

 

The audience surges to its feet and it roars its approval while the security staff form a line at the lowest row of seats to try to hold back those who would try to rush the stage. Unable to be heard even with the mic, Lily lowers it and flicks its off, smiling and waving at her fans. She holds her arms out and gives a bow to signal the end of tonight’s performance and heads back offstage. Waiting to meet her with a water bottle and a bottle of aspirin is Maria.

“So,” says Lily after downing half her water bottle and a handful of pills. “How did I do?”

Maria grins. “Lady Liberty has nothing on you, Evergreen.”

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

_The footage shakes like it’s in a mixer and the rightmost side is partially obscured by scrolling blue text. The cadence of movement and the sounds of close-by huffed breathing suggest the recording is from a head-worn recording device, a theory supported by frequent glimpses of the camera-wearer’s slim, armour-covered body. The footage rocks side to side, and slaps and thumps echo across the audio feed as the camera wearer scuffles hand-to-hand with a large, dark haired fighter in the back garden of a European styled home. Eventually the camera wearer kicks her opponent through a cellar door and follows him down into the dim light._

_Another flurry of blows and the camera wearer forces her opponent backwards further into the dark room until he hits a wall. From this viewpoint it is easy to see the rips in his protective wear and part of his vest hangs open on his chest. He has three knives strapped at his sides and thigh but does not reach for them. He raises his hands in surrender and looks up at the camera wearer from beneath his long hair._

_Alarmingly loud, an angry male voice tinged with a subtle electronic fuzz cracks across the audio. Clearly linked to the camera device, tiny captions scroll across the blue text in time with the voice._

**_“He’s not your soulmate anymore, Lily, he’s a monster. End him. That’s a direct order.”_ **

_The camera wearer’s opponent watches as she stalks him with long, slow steps. “You don’t have to do this,” he says, his voice soft and pleading. His eyes don’t leave her face._

_The camera wearer doesn’t respond with words. Instead, she launches two silver half circles and hands the man had raised in surrender smash backwards against the metal wall. He struggles against the restraints but they don’t shift an inch. Terror flashes across his features as he realises he is stuck. The camera wearer paces again._

_Over the electronic device, the other voice seethes. **“Stop stalling! You’ll kill him and you’ll do it now or you can expect a court martial!”**_

_At the bottom of the screen, the camera wearer’s pale hands retrieve her sidearm from its holster at her hips._

_“Please. Please don’t,” the other fighter begs._

**_“Now, you stupid girl! Do it!”_ **

 

 

 

 “In what is being claimed as the biggest departmental SNAFU in recent memory, secret footage from the Ross investigation has been leaked onto the internet. While the video cannot legally be published until after the Ross investigation has been completed, tens of thousands of people have already downloaded and viewed it, which could have potentially disastrous consequences for any future jury-associated hearings following the investigation. Here’s Brenna McIntosh with more.”

“Thank you, Audrey. Yes, I’m here at the White House while we wait for a statement from the Presidentially-appointed Special Investigator into the Ross case. While no one knows exactly what has happened here, unofficial sources say the leak could be connected to the notorious Hacker group, The Rising Tide. As to why the Rising Tide decided to become involved in the Ross investigation, it is, as the saying goes, a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.”

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

“-in accordance with the heretofore mentioned schedule, the Chair recognises the distinguished ambassador of Germany. If you will, madam”

“Thank you, Mr Chairman. It has come to the attention of the German government that an influential member of the Sokovia Accords panel is under investigation by his home nation for crimes of a serious and disturbing nature. Germany proposes Mr Ross be removed from all duties until such time as his home country’s investigation is completed and a more appropriate response can be formed.”

“Thank you, distinguished ambassador. Is there a second to this motion? Yes? The distinguished ambassador of Canada, does Canada second this motion?”

“Thank you, Mr Chairman. Canada seconds Germany’s motion.”

“Very well, the Chair recognises a motion to temporarily remove Mr Ross from his responsibilities has been proposed. Distinguished ambassadors, please signal your intentions. Thank you. Let the records show the motion put forward by Germany and seconded by Canada is carried. Mr Ross is hereby suspended from all duties pertaining to the United Nations until further notice.”

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

Pepper pressed the disconnect button on her office phone and leaned back in her chair with a heavy sigh. She and Mac had been fielding calls from their allies for hours, acting as a command central for Operation Yoko’s media response team and it was exhausting juggling so many balls in the air. Not that she couldn’t do it- of course she could, she’d been doing it for Stark Industries for years – but it wasn’t usually quite with this level of intensity. Or scale. Credit where it was due, Lily Evergreen and her team had assembled a truly phenomenal amount of people willing to go public with their support and it was with not an insignificant amount of satisfaction that she could count herself as partially responsible for it. She pulled her headset off and massaged her poor scalp and looked over to her partner in crime.

“How are you doing, Mac?” she asked. “Cup of tea?”

Unlike her, Mac refused a hands-free device and was taking all his calls with a regular handset that must have been murder on his outer ear. When Pepper had tried to insist, Mac just chuckled and said at least it wasn’t Bakelite.  

“Thank you dear, tea sounds lovely,” Mac mouthed to her, half his attention still on whichever retired general or colonel or lobbyist he was currently conspiring with. He was in his element, loving every moment of his ‘last assignment’ as he called it. “No, not you, Gruen. I wouldn’t drink tea you made if my life depended on it. Ninety seven years without being poisoned, thank you, I’m not about to risk it now.”

Pepper raised an eyebrow but Mac fluttered a hand at her while a tinny guffaw came from his phone. Military humour, indeed. She was just about to go retrieve the aforementioned beverages when her phone lit up at the same time as her computer screen flashed an alert. Lily was trending. Tea would have to wait.

 

#BeBrave  #BeFree  #ProtectTheHeroes  #FindLilyEvergreen 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	37. Yoko - part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Two of Operation Yoko.
> 
> Things are getting hot!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello sweet peaches, it's been a little while hasn't it?
> 
> Let me apologise firstly, I know its been a couple weeks. Unfortunately it was unavoidable.  
> I've been having some problems with my eyes and temporarily lost my functional vision. And yes, I know there are wonderful options out there for blind people but I'm not usually blind and I don't know how to use them! 
> 
> With some well timed medical assistance, and Tam and Bib letting me cry all over them, I've managed to push through. It's slow and painful, but we'll get there folks. We're almost at the end of our characters' Deliverance, after all.
> 
> Without further ado:

 

 

 

 

"Look out!"

With screams of jagged metal battering his eardrums, Steve dove beyond the reach of the spiked bars that dropped from the ceiling. After rolling to his feet, he patted himself down then looked over at Bucky who, like Steve, had been saved by his enhanced reflexes.

"Is everyone alright?" he asked both Bucky and the others on the comm line. He peered back down the corridor that was now split with multiple steel gates. "That didn't sound like it was isolated to this section."

Damn Ross and his paranoia. Coulson's operations support team were good and they'd managed to disable the prisoners' electric collars before Ross's men activated them, but they had severely underestimated the amount of nasty surprises this facility had in store. What Steve wouldn't give to have Tony with them right now.

"Fine," came Toffa's pained response. "But I'm not going to be much use to you from here out,"

Beside him, Bucky stilled and Steve saw the barely contained panic for what it was.

"Tremblay, report," he barked.

"Oh, no trouble. Just a little- ah! Just a leg wound, eh?"

"Can you make it out to Coulson?"

"That would be... difficult,"

Steve met Bucky's gaze, noticed the deliberate set of his lips, the hard clench of his teeth. Bucky would always have Steve's back no matter what, would drop everything to follow Steve into the fires of Hell with nothing more than a muttered expletive and possibly an invocation of someone’s mother’s bible. This Steve knew just the same as he knew the sun rose in the east and Brooklyn was the best place on Earth. He knew Bucky wouldn’t budge from his self-assigned duties as his protector, especially not mid-operation and _especially_ not if it left Steve vulnerable. However this was different. Toffa was more than a teammate. He was family.

"Stay where you are," Steve ordered Toffa. "I'm sending Bucky back to get you,"

"Steve," Bucky began, his voice wavering in the face of his internal conflict. "This place is trapped to kingdom come. You can't go ahead on your own."

Further up the hall a door lock disengaged and they both spun their weapons to face the new threat. Slowly with their arms raised in the air, a small group of escaped prisoners stepped into view. Despite being painfully thin, pallid and wearing only their grime covered prisoner's outfits, they stood tall and carried weapons modified from what they could scavenge in the facility. These were not victims but warriors bent on retribution, and a grave determination glowed in each face. Steve recognised it. It was the same determination that had shone from another group of prisoners Steve rescued oh so long ago and it promised nothing but trouble for Ross and those in charge.

"Somehow I don't think that will be a problem," Steve said with a wry grin, clapping Bucky on the shoulder. “Go help Toffa before Tommo magically teleports in and shanks my kidneys.”

Leaving Bucky still scowling behind him, Steve jogged closer to the little group.

"You're... You're Captain America, right?" asked one of the escapees, a broad man with close cropped hair that reminded Steve of Gabe Jones. "They said you wouldn't come but we knew you would. You're one of Lily Evergreen's soul mates."

“Steve Rogers and yes, I am,” nodded Steve. “She told me there’s a new sport about town, something about protecting heroes. Thought I’d join in.”

“We’re not heroes,” said another escapee. She was smaller than the rest but gripped a piece of steel pipe like she already knew who she was swinging at. “We know where to find some though. They were taken to the basement when they made too much trouble.”

Steve’s jaw set. “Well. Lucky for us, I’ve always liked trouble.”

  

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

“Okay, okay, so here’s the deal,” said Hellen, shuffling forward on her cushioned interview chair. In a bomber jacket, rumpled tan pants and a pair of converse, the famous host was a glaring contrast to her elegant interviewee but it didn’t faze her in the slightest. “I love to dance, right? And I love dancing with my guests. But when I told my beloved wife Mercedes that you would be on the show, she got really excited, right? Because apparently there is a well-known story in her family that back in Houston in thirty nine, her grandma Alice waltzed with you.”

Delicately perched on the edge of her own seat with her ankles tucked neatly beneath her, Lily Evergreen blinked her wide blue eyes and lifted her brows. “Gracious, her grand _mother_? In Houston, you said?”

“yeah-huh, Houston, nineteen thirty nine, platinum blonde and pretty Alice Huxley. Should I tell the story?”

“Hmm, that _was_ a while back, I don’t know if I- oh wait,” Lily paused and stared into the middle distance above Hellen’s shoulder. “Wait, yes, I think I remember. She wore a maroon and green dress? And her date gave her a daisy corsage?”

Hellen shuffled further forward and deliberately bumped her knee against Lily’s, bouncing them both with her excitement. “That’s right! And then he went on to jilt her and dance with another girl! So you- ,”

“So I danced with Alice,” Lily laughed, nodding. She tilted her head and tapped her bottom lip with a fingertip. “We got more than a few stares and I was awful at leading but as I recall Alice was very understanding.”

The studio band began to play the intro to one of Lily Evergreen’s early songs, a crooning jazz number. With their voices drowned out by a burst of applause from the audience, Hellen jumped to her feet and jogged across the stage to welcome a stunning blonde woman wearing a pre-war wine and forest green dress. Sharing equally radiant smiles, Hellen led her wife back to where Lily stood and gently applauded their approach. Hellen waved for the audience to quieten.

“Now I’ve tried to treat my Mercedes better than Grandma Alice’s old beau did her, I promise, but it seems some things stay in the family. Lily Evergreen, would you do me the honor of dancing with my wife?”

Stagehands moved in behind the trio and swept away the cushioned chairs to reveal a dance floor while oversized Grecian columns holding daisy filled urns lowered down from the ceiling struts to enclose it on three sides. When the music rose up, Lily bent at the waist and offered Mercedes her hand. Pink tinged and breathless, Mercedes accepted it with her own and they moved into the middle of the dance floor.

“I’m afraid I haven’t practiced my leading at all,” apologised Lily. “I fear for your toes.” She placed a hand on Mercedes waist and started to dance, their movements hesitant and awkward both because Mercedes was over a head taller than Lily and Lily wasn’t lying about her leading skills.

“It’s fine, honestly” breathed Mercedes, shuffling into a poorly timed twirl that was entirely Lily’s fault.

“Yeah, she won’t feel a thing until at least next week,” added Hellen from her position leaning against one of the Grecian columns. The host turned to the audience and sighed theatrically. “So, it looks like I’ve just lost my wife. The divorce papers are probably already in the mail. If only there was someone else out there for me, someone pretty. Someone _very_ pretty. And funny. And _rich_ …”

The band stuttered to a halt. Overhead, the lights dipped and brightened into a dozen red and gold spotlights that spun in increasingly complicated circles before coalescing to into a single shining beam. To the accompaniment of INXS’s _Never tear us apart,_ Tony Stark stepped into the spotlight and let the beams bounce off his white tuxedo and tails. The studio screamed while he skipped over to Hellen to present her with a rose. Then when Hellen pretended to swoon, Tony caught her, spun, and moved her into a low dip.

“You called?” he smirked down at the presenter.

The audience screamed again.

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

The glass tumbler struck the wall and smashed into a thousand tiny pieces. Petrified, two scientists in grubby lab coats and cloudy goggles cowered against an antique workbench while next to them amber fluid dripped down the wallpaper and into a puddle on the floorboards.

“You said it would be ready,” former-Secretary Ross seethed. With his hand wrapped around the neck of a whiskey bottle, he pointed into the scientist’s face, one after the other and then back again. The liquid inside the bottle sloshed against its edges in time with Ross’s furious shaking. “You said it would be _done._ ”

“I-I-I’m sorry, sir,” said the first scientist, cringing into herself. “It is a very complex formula, we couldn’t have known- ,”

Ross hurled his bottle after his tumbler, the impact spraying the scientists with its fallout. They shrunk back even further, the second scientist so terrified he didn’t even move to shake the glass from his hair.

“You _could_ have known. You _should_ have known!” Ross roared. “I have given you everything you asked for, provided every piece of equipment, scavenged every possible remnant from the old SSR. I even gave you their old laboratory for God’s sake, and _still_ you fail!”

The first scientist grovelled but Ross turned away from her words even as she spoke. He stormed to the laboratory staircase and paused on the first step to speak over his shoulder.

“If I do not have that weapon within the next forty eight hours I will personally see that every member of your families is sent to the Raft for the rest of their natural born lives.”

The second scientist started crying. The first didn’t comfort him. Ross continued up the creaking stairs to where he had appropriated himself an office from one of the old SSR team, sneering at a dusty portrait of Colonel Chester Philips as he went past. Once inside, Ross pulled a replacement whiskey bottle from his bottom desk drawer and gulped from it, not bothering to find a replacement tumbler as well. He didn’t notice his door swinging closed until a figure shifted within the shadows.

“Drinking on the job? How European of you, Ross,” said the shadows.

Ross snorted. “What do you want? Come to gloat?”

“Not at all. In fact I came to make you an offer, one that I think you may be very interested in accepting.”

The shadows didn’t shift again but Ross knew better than to relax. He took another mouthful of whiskey before giving in to his curiosity. Rolling his wrist to indicate his willingness to listen, he settled himself against the edge of his desk.

“Your little pet rats downstairs, they’re working on a weapon,” said the shadows. “Are you planning on wielding it yourself?”

“I’ll do what I must,” replied Ross. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

The shadows rippled, spilling a short huff of laughter. “You wouldn’t last ten seconds against Rogers, let alone Evergreen or Barnes. Let _me_ wield it in your place.”  

“And why would you do that?” Ross asked, narrowing his eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest, whiskey bottle and all.

“Because I dislike it when poppies grow too tall. They disrupt the field in which I wish to play.”

Ross shook his head. “You’re psychotic. A traitor.”

The shadows laughed again.

“And yet, I’m the best hope you’ve got,”

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

“And you’re certain the information they’ve given is correct?” asked the stately woman, her English tinged with an educated German accent.

T’Challa inclined his head. He motioned with his hand and Sam slid across the file they’d prepared after their meeting with the crusty old white dudes in the warehouse. Sam had been damned relieved when he found out their next meeting would be in the VIP room of a fancy-ass restaurant instead of a roach infested biological hazard waiting to happen. Disgusting though it was, _he_ could handle a shitty warehouse. A woman like Angela Merkel though, hell, she shouldn’t have to walk within a mile of that place. Except he knew for a fact she did because that’s just the kind of politician she was.

“I am certain,” T’Challa replied, setting his teacup on its saucer with a little clink. “This is concrete evidence of Ross’s manipulations. With the major Commonwealth countries committing to our cause, the testimonies you have gathered from the southern Europeans, and the banking information from the Scandinavian bloc, it should be enough.”

Chancellor Merkel smiled and Sam wondered if she knew her canines flashed when she smiled like that. She probably did. Who was he kidding, it was Angela Merkel, of course she did.

“Ah now perhaps finally I can surprise you, your Majesty,” she said, leaning forward to take another spoonful of sugar for her tea. “This morning we have heard from the Malaysian, Vietnamese and Indonesian delegates. They wish to discuss political protections in exchange for their official support.”

“Really?” T’Challa’s eyes glittered. “What did you tell them?”

The Chancellor picked up her cup and took a delicate sip, drawing out the moment for all she was worth. Eventually when she met T’Challa’s gaze over the china rim it felt like a lioness teasing her cubs. “I told them that if they should convince Thailand, Singapore and Cambodia then we would have a deal.”

For a long moment T’Challa was silent and Sam would bet cash money it was because he needed time to steady that infamous composure.

“Chancellor,” the King finally said. “When this is over, I would very much like to introduce you to my mother.”

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

A lithe reporter with sleek black hair dodges through the crowds of reporters surrounding the entrance to Stark Industries and calls out to the man they are all hunting just as he exits the building.

 “Mr Stark! Mr Stark! Have you seen the latest anti-Accords rally in Los Angeles? Is Lily Evergreen planning on attending like she did in Detroit?”

Tony Stark pauses and turns to face the young woman who managed to secure his attention.

“Maybe. I’m not her secretary, I don’t keep her schedule. One thing I can tell you though is that the rally in California looks brilliant. Even bigger than Detroit. Tens of thousands of heroes all coming together to peacefully call for freedom in America, what could be more patriotic? I wouldn’t have thought Los Angeles could out-do New York for heroes but there we go.”

“Are you saying your sister _might_ attend the rally?” presses the reporter, keeping up with Stark as his bodyguard steers him towards a gold convertible.

“What I’m saying is that with the notable exception of the President’s cocker spaniels -those things are _adorable_ , honestly- Lily is the most patriotic creature in this entire country. If you want to lure her into visiting somewhere, holding a massive rally about _freedom_ is probably the best way to do it.”

“And what about yourself, Mr Stark? Do you support the push to rescind the Accords? Would you ever consider reforming the Avengers?”

Tony Stark removes his glasses and looks straight down the camera.

“My family has always promoted equality, fraternity and freedom of speech. I have literally _bled into buckets_ for these ideals. If the public of America decides they want the Avengers, then the Avengers will damn well heed the call. My door is open. And who knows? Maybe I’ll find Lily there.”

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

“I know my memory isn’t quite what it used to be but it seems to me we’ve done this before. Intelligence from Lily, tech from a Stark, looting evil science labs. Is any of  this feeling familiar to you?”

Steve rolled his eyes and continued foraging through desk drawers. Now that they knew Dr Cho and her Cradle were taking care of Toffa in New York –two smashed femurs, ‘it would be difficult’, _honestly_ – Bucky’s mood had been effervescent to say the least. Coulson hadn’t needed to take a single step inside this last facility, Bucky had gleefully destroyed anything that even looked like putting up a fight. There were probably healthier ways to process the emotions brought on by a loved one’s injury but Steve’d no doubt be struck by lightning if he said anything considering his own history of doing exactly the same thing.

“Dunno, pal,” Steve replied, running his finger beneath the rim of a filing cabinet. “Seems like- ,”

His fingers brushed a section of raised metal. There was a pop and then a hiss. Bucky yelled.

Then he woke up in the corridor.

“You are an absolute fucking idiot,” Bucky glared down at him. “You know that, right?”

“Don’t tell Lily,” Steve mumbled around a mouth full of cotton. He blinked a few times and raised his head. “What was in there?”

Bucky brought a manila folder into Steve’s field of vision. “Designs for something. There was a drive too. The trap was meant to destroy everything inside the compartment but I saved them in time.”

“We should get it to Stark,” said Steve, climbing to his feet and only wobbling a little bit. He was quite proud of that.

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

Maria nodded to the pair of security guards stationed outside the glitzy hotel and pushed through the gold-framed doors. At reception she nodded at two more, then distinctly ignored the dozen covert operatives pretending to be civilians in the hotel’s bar and restaurant. At the elevators she showed her ID to another pair, this time a couple that she’d known for over ten years, and smiled her approval at their adherence to protocol. Exiting the elevators on her and Lily’s floor, she repeated the action twice more at security points before scanning her iris and letting herself into her and Lily’s shared suite.

“Just me, Lily,” she called out, stripping out of her jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. “Did you see Tony on- ,”

A vice gripped her throat and Maria was slammed backwards against the door. She lifted both legs and kicked her assailant hard in the chest and he dropped but before she could further incapacitate him she heard the unmistakable sound of a safety being switched off.

“Stop,” ordered a man’s deep voice and she obeyed. She was no use to Lily dead and the more minutes she could distract the assailants, the longer Lily had to respond to the threat.

“Who are you? Who do you work for?” she asked, ever hopeful.

A man in a cheap black ski mask approached from the suite’s kitchenette. Damn it, she’d known that sight line was compromised. The man didn’t answer her questions and just held out a phone. Wisely avoiding Maria’s striking range, he slid it across the tiles to where it bumped her toes. She knelt and picked it up.

“Pembroke,” she barked into the phone. Her voice didn’t shake. She was a fucking professional.

“Ah, Ms Hill, so lovely to hear your voice. I hope you left at least a couple of my men alive.”

“Ross,” she spat. “What the hell do you want?”

“Peace, Ms Hill, and to protect my country, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. Which is what your mistress is ruining.”

Maria didn’t respond. There was no point arguing ethics with a man like Ross. She’d save her breath for her counterattacks.

“Ms Hill, right now I’m sending you some photographs you may be interested in. Be a dear and look, will you?”

Biting her lip, Maria lowered the phone from her ear. An image materialised and she sucked in a gasp. Then came another, and another, and another, and it formed a very clear narrative, one that Maria hoped she’d never have to see again. Dozens of images of Nick popped up, evidence of extensive surveillance, and more than one image had the chilling overlay of a crosshair. Damn it, Nick must’ve been sloppy to be spotted so easily and for so long.

“You get the fuck away from my soulmate, Ross, you sonofabitch,” she hissed.

“Now now, let’s not be hasty. I promise I’ll ignore the entire existence of Nicholas J Fury just as soon as you do one tiny little thing in return.”

“And what would that be?” Maria asked.

“Keep the phone. I’ll call when I need you.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Let me know!


	38. Yoko - Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Three of Operation Yoko

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again sweethearts
> 
> Its been a while, hasn't it? Life has happened, seasons have changed, Halloween has come and gone. And all the while you waited for me.
> 
> Thank you.
> 
> I'm going blind. Several months ago I lost the vast majority of my useful vision. Treatments since then have restored most of it, thankfully, but for a while there it was really REALLY scary. And knowing that I had you guys cheering for me, supporting me from all around the world even though you know hardly anything about me, that gave me strength. You might not think it did a lot, throwing a few sentences into a comments box, adding your thoughts to my list, but I promise you, it did. It made all the difference in the world.
> 
> You are my heroes. Thank you for not giving up on me.
> 
> This one's for you.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Maria glared at the incoming video currently displayed on the jet’s console and chewed on her thumb nail. It was a habit she’d picked up after spending so much time with Captain Rogers at the Triskelion but one she hadn’t been able to drop even with all of Nick’s teasing.

Nick.

God, Nick, that damn fool.

“Washington does a nice rally, doesn’t it? Really makes me proud. It won’t vanish if you blink, Maria,” Lily teased, reaching around to deposit a glass of chardonnay on the surface next to the feed. She dropped into the co-pilot’s chair and bumped their elbows. It was an unnecessary act of closeness even within the limited space in their jet, and it stung Maria like she’d been burned. “Well, I’m pretty sure eight hundred thousand people can’t spontaneously disappear but hey, who knows? Stranger things have happened.”

Maria grabbed the wine glass and gulped from it. Under normal circumstances, she would never drink before an operation, not even a few mouthfuls. Under normal circumstances she would be up and moving and organising, making final adjustments to the security measures that could mean the difference between life and death. Under normal circumstances Nick would be fucking safe.

Taking a sip from her own glass, Lily slouched down in her seat like the millennial she was and not the forties glamour star she pretended to be and sent over a grin that Maria couldn’t return. Lily was so trusting. Too trusting. Lily was an operative trained by Peggy Carter herself, she should be able to spot a lie from a mile away, she shouldn’t be so fucking trusting.

“Eight hundred thousand is a fairly conservative estimate,” Maria hedged, desperate to keep the strain from her voice. She counted the buttons on Lily’s ivory shirt, the little row of pearls that formed a line from her collarbone to her heart. “I’d say closer to an even million. What did you do, call in everyone on your Christmas card list?”

Lily tipped her head back and laughed, the pale outline of her throat distinct against the backdrop of her curls. Maria turned back to the display.

“Hey,” Lily called softly. “It’s just a rally. It will be fine.”

Maria steeled herself to meet the burning faith in those eyes, in that face. The one she’d grown up idolising just like all the other wannabe agents in America. The one that should be able to see, should know. Maria licked her lips, so dry and pale in contrast to Lily’s ruby smile.

“You don’t… I mean, there might be another rally, a bigger one. You could call this off, use the next one instead,” she said, silently begging that this hero, this girl, this friend, heard what she was trying to say but couldn’t.

The curious look Lily gave her was interrupted by a beep on their comm equipment. Lily jumped up to accept the call and the pale chiffon of her shirt flounced around her arms. It looked like a shroud.

“Got good news for me, Mac?” Lily asked, keen to set off on her next adventure. So sure she would be caught if she fell. “Our zipline is ready and waiting for my big dramatic entrance. Tony’s gonna be so proud.”

Maria shouldn’t have had the wine. It made her stomach churn.

“Affirmative, Operation Alpha,” replied Marty McNamara, the proudest ninety seven year old operative in existence. He should be proud. He’d been loyal to Lily for seventy years, never once betrayed her. Never once posed as a friend when he was really a snake. “General Barstow is speaking next, then Douglass. Ms Potts and I will meet you onstage after that, in approximately forty five minutes.”

“Good work, Mac. You know what comes next.”

McNamara’s raspy chuckle came across the line. “By Odin, by Thor, by Loki and by Frigga, the strongest of them all. Gods keep you, Lily Evergreen.”

Maria was going to be sick.

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

“Protestors are descending on Washington in droves amidst the lead up for a rally destined to break the records. For days, thousands of civilians have crammed into every available form of transport around the city to join what will surely become an historic event in American politi- ,”

The unflappable old school reporter with leather patches on his elbows and a stunning black cloud of equally unflappable hair didn’t blink as his monologue was interrupted by a quartet of rowdy protestors. Grinning and laughing, they climbed over each other to fit into the frame to better display their home-made signs and holler their critiques of the regime over the reporter’s shoulder. While the reporter lowered his mic and quietly dealt with the disruption, the camera shifted away to span a National Mall that more closely resembled a mosh pit than a restful haven, sweeping across hundreds of thousands of people marching for their freedoms. Eventually the camera returned to the reporter who had recovered his space with not a whisker out of place.

“With speeches expected from a variety of famous anti-Accords activists that include former military elite, politicians and celebrities, the biggest question on everyone’s mind today isn’t whether or not this message will be heard by the Government, because surely there is no ignoring voices shouting so loud. Indeed, the question is this: Is today’s rally large enough to draw the attention America’s most famous freedom fighter? Will Lily Evergreen heed the call of the masses of whom she has so greatly inspired? For who else but the legendary Lily Evergreen could have lit such a fire beneath- ,”

With one hand still on the jet’s controls, Bucky whistled a long low note as a different camera angle showed the DC crowd not just in the Mall but surrounding it as well. He tapped at the display and enlarged it further to cover what Steve felt was an uncomfortably significant percentage of the cockpit’s instrument panel.

“Buck, don’t you need to see-,” he began.

“Need to see our girl’s work, that’s what I need to see,” Bucky replied, using a knee to steady the steering controls while further manipulating the image. Steve had to close his eyes. He knew Bucky could fly any plane in existence, he knew that, but did Bucky have to be so damned cavalier about it? Especially right now? Steve was wound tighter than a two dollar watch, pacing up and down behind Bucky’s seat because he was too restless to sit on his own no matter how many times Bucky told him to strap in. They’d been fighting Ross’s men and destroying Ross’s facilities for what felt like an eternity, he was exhausted, and Lily was basically on her own at a record breaking march that they had been expressly forbidden to attend. The little cogs in his chest ground against each other as he fought to keep his frustration in check and started on another lap of the jet.

“Not bad. Not bad,” Bucky nodded his head. To Steve’s relief, he minimised the image and returned his hands to the controls. “Doesn’t look like she’ll be making her appearance any time soon if the security’s anything to go on. They’ve barely set up, not even on the rooftops yet. Maybe she changed her mind.”

“Maria will have it sorted,” said Steve. He rubbed the heel of his hand into his sternum. “She’s the best. She won’t let us down.”

As the words left his mouth, an alarm screeched and the jet pitched sideways. Unrestrained, Steve flew across the side of the cabin and slammed against an interior strut. He threw up an arm just in time to protect his head as everything that wasn’t bolted down hurtled through the air towards him, the thumps of their landings muffling the sound of Bucky’s frantic swears. With the emergency lights tinting everything red, the jet lurched again. The displays flashed and the alarms screamed and Steve couldn’t fly one of Stark’s fancy jets but he sure as hell knew this wasn’t good.

“Bucky!” Steve yelled, unable to stand beneath the gravitational force of their wild plunge.

“It’s not me!” Bucky yelled back. He swore and slapped at the systems panel, trying to claw back some semblance of control.

“It’s me,” snapped the welcome voice of Tony Stark, a metallic echo signalling he was talking to them from inside his Iron Man suit. Steve shot a look towards the communications part of the cockpit where he should have been able to see an image of Tony’s face but instead saw only the terrible glare of flashing danger signals and gauges that pushed further into the red.

“What’s going on?” Steve demanded. “Tony, is that you or FRIDAY? I can’t see- ,”

“It’s me, Steve. I’m rerouting power and changing your course. I’m hijacking this fucking jet and I’m hijacking you and if the turbulence gets a little rough because of it well that’s too fucking bad.”

Forced to fight gravity, Steve manoeuvred around the interior supports by pure strength. He pulled himself to where Bucky could grasp his outstretched arm just in time for the jet to right itself. With a cry of surprise, Steve fell forward to land shoulder first into Bucky’s guts, two hundred and forty pounds straight into the diaphragm. Bucky wheezed a half-hearted curse while Steve found his feet, then gave a rueful smile of apology to his ashen-faced friend.

Tony was still talking. “That schematic you sent me, the one from Ross’s lab. It’s a bio-agent designed to kill super soldiers, destroys any cell affected by Erskine’s serum or the serums that used Erskine’s as a base. That means it’s designed to kill three super soldiers specifically, and considering two of you are sitting pretty in my fucking plane and the other one is currently being ritualistically summoned by a million screaming civilians, I think we can be pretty sure where Ross is likely to go first.”

Steve’s mind shorted out like a wet fuse. He heard the words Stark was saying, they just didn’t make sense.

“How is it used?” asked Bucky, wincing as he shifted to allow Steve space to lean on his arm rest.

“Looks like a coating for a bullet so I’m going to go ahead and guess someone’s going to try to take a pot-shot. Listen, Pepper and Mac are about to go onstage now. Lily will drop in approximately twenty two minutes. I can get there in twenty nine.”

 “But… but Bucky said she wouldn’t show for hours yet. Her security’s not in place,” said Steve, hoping, praying that Stark had it wrong.

The emergency lighting flickered and dimmed.

“Fuck. FUCK.” Tony swore. “Someone’s activated the Pinocchio protocols and kicked FRIDAY out of all Lily’s systems. I can’t access anything. I can’t even fucking warn her!”

Tony continued to swear while Bucky met Steve’s eyes. “Pinocchio protocols?”

Steve answered automatically, the need for action kickstarting his brain back into gear. He got up to pace the jet again. “The protocols Tony came up with after the Ultron debacle. A last resort in case someone manages to turn our AI against us. Only Lily or Maria would have clearance to activate it.”

Bucky’s face darkened and because Steve’s thoughts had gone exactly the same way, he knew the reason why. Maria Hill was a traitor. She’d dropped Lily’s security, disabled FRIDAY. Lily was a sitting duck while Ross had been handed a free pass by someone they thought would never betray them.

The muted information available on the jet’s instrument panel flashed to life, showing a direct route to DC that ignored all civilian flight paths and every aerial ban. If the redistributed power stayed stable, they could be there in twenty three minutes.

“Orders?” Bucky asked, his Brooklyn drawl supplanted by that flat-edged Russian that sent shivers down Steve’s spine.

Steve knew it wasn’t his mate who was operating anymore. He also knew he didn’t care. He met the Winter Soldier’s dead eyed stare with one of his own and when he replied it was with none of the hope or goodness of Captain America.

“We get in there. We get her out. Anyone tries to stop us, we deal with them.”

The Winter Soldier dipped his head.

“Mission accepted.”

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

“Is that her?”

“She’s here!”

“Oh my God! Oh my God!”

“Is that a zip line?”

The swollen Mall surged with the release of hours of built up anticipation. The air grew moist, sweat and tears combining as a million cries blended into a single roar loud enough to block the whir of the media choppers circling above them. Lily Evergreen, her hair a windswept halo, her white chiffon shirt a ribboned cloud, her navy skirt tight against her thighs, slid down to drop on the red, white and blue platform right between Pepper Potts and Martin McNamara. Potts beamed and applauded while McNamara, withered and shaking and determined, gripped the arms of his wheelchair to stand and bow from his waist.

Evergreen returned McNamara’s bow, ducking her head low. Then she straightened and faced her audience. Her mouth moved, eyes dancing as she spoke, but even with the microphones her words were lost in the rolling thunder of the crowd. Realising it was pointless to continue, Evergreen beamed her incandescent ruby smile, opened her arms to her admirers and bowed again.

She had arrived.

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

A slight crease appeared between Bucky’s eyebrows. If Steve hadn’t known that face so well, able to sketch each pore by memory alone, he would have missed it.

“Soldier, report.” Steve barked.

“Air access restricted. Twelve military aircraft. Sixteen designated media, non-military. Orders?”

Steve hesitated. The skies were definitely more crowded than they could manoeuvre safely but so was the ground. Although if they were moving amongst the crowd they’d have a better chance of spotting any enemies. And with Lily already on the stage, he couldn’t waste time waiting to see if a gap would open up between the helicopters.

“Get as close as you can, then switch to autopilot. We’ll go the rest of the way by foot.”

“Engaging at speed will result in collateral damage,” said the Soldier, as though they needed to decide which plants to crush while mowing a flower bed.

“These are civilians. Move fast but keep force to a minimum unless someone’s deliberately blocking our way. In that case use your best judgement.”

The Winter Soldier nodded his understanding. Steve didn’t clarify what ‘best judgement’ meant. He didn’t have to.

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

The Winter Soldier’s sight line was compromised. He moved through the crowd with his elbows out, his head ducked low to hide his face, his gloves and jacket hiding his arm. No one would be able to remember his face, anything other than his build and his hair. He weaved his way forward, marking his path in his peripheral vision and making use of any reflective surfaces to see ahead.

Six hundred yards.

“Friends! How wonderful it is to see you today! You’re glorious! Look at the sight you make! Listen to how loud you are!”

His target’s voice rang out, doubling as the lines of outdoor speakers broadcasted her words for those further away. There was something happening near the head of the crowd, several lines of movement converging into a new mass.

Five hundred yards.

“You’ve come here today to be heard, my friends, and I promise you will be. You will be seen and you will be counted and you will not be denied what is yours!”

Arms raised as the crowd around him cheered. He took advantage of the motions, slipping beneath and around bodies like smoke. Behind him, too far behind considering they shared similar baseline abilities, was his mission-support.

Four hundred yards.

“Tell them! Tell those who would cage you! You do not need to earn your rights. You don’t have to prove you deserve them. You don’t even have to appreciate them! Your rights are yours! They have always been yours, because you are a human, because you are a person. And the only reason you would be without your rights is if someone takes them from you.”

At the base of the stage, bodies dipped and fell as protestors were pushed aside. The congestion formed a solid black bulk and the Soldier counted at least twenty heads in riot gear. Behind him, his mission-support shouted out a warning. He’d seen them too.

Three hundred yards.

“Today, you came here to declare to the world that your rights will not be taken. Not from you, not from your neighbors, not from the strangers who live on the other side of the country. Today you came here to declare to the world that you will not accept anything less than what is yours. What is theirs. Today you declare that you are brave. And today, you show the world that you are free.”

The invading force of black clad militants swelled up the steps to the stage. The security officers who should have blocked them instead moved aside to allow them passage and they stormed upwards with no resistance. Secondary targets Potts and McNamara were restrained and removed. One of the assailants closed in on the primary target and removed his riot helmet to reveal his identity. Alpha threat – Thaddeus Ross. 

Two hundred yards.

“Enough!” Ross yelled. He moved closer to the microphones while the primary target moved away, trapped on the stage but still keeping the distance between them intact. “This charade is over! This mockery of democracy! Idiots that you all are, can’t you see how she manipulates you?”

He couldn’t hear his primary target’s response. She was too far from the microphones. Ross heard.

“Freedom? You claim its freedom? It’s a farce! You think clichés and catchphrases will make them forget you’re an abomination? You’re dragging this country into its grave, Evergreen, you’re weakening it. Crippling it. You’re an enemy of the State – and you need to be stopped.”

One hundred yards.

Ross reached for the sidearm holstered at his hip and raised it to aim at Lily. At his command, the soldiers behind him did the same.

The crowd roared. They surged forwards, crushing the Soldier amongst them. He was slowed, his movement hampered by the sheer mass of bodies.

“Move! Move!” bellowed Steve.

He tried. He grabbed arms, dragged shoulders, but there was no room, nowhere for them to go. Still, he pushed.

Fifty yards. Forty.

He could hear Lily now, above the crowd. Above Steve. Above the screams that left his own mouth.

Thirty.

“-you think I’m the monster, you clearly have no sense of self-awareness!” she called to Ross. One of her hands pointed at Ross. The other moved to the pocket in her skirt, reaching for something. He was so close now, twenty yards. “You’re a sanctimonious, hypocritical maniac! A bigot, a zealot, a traitor to your- ,”

Bang.

Lily’s mouth dropped wide. She tilted her head down, stared at the flower blossoming on her chest. It was the same color as her lips.

He hit the wall of soldiers protecting the stage and unleashed, furious, merciless, to get through. To reach her.

Lily’s fingers opened to show what she had taken from her pocket. A gold five-pointed star, surrounded by a laurel, and held by a golden eagle. She looked up, found Bucky’s face in the crowd, heard his screams.

And fell.

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

WAR HERO SHOT AT DC RIGHTS RALLY: Former Secretary Ross detained as Person of Interest

 

THE PRICE OF FREEDOM AND HOW ITS PAID: Is this the last straw for the Accords?

 

THE SCARLET SWEETHEART: How ‘that’ image has already blown up the internet

 

STARK RAMPAGE: IRON MAN SETS HIS SIGHTS ON SISTERS ATTACKERS

 

THE EVERGREEN TRIAD: TRAGEDY IN EVERY CENTURY?

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

“The Chair recognises the distinguished ambassador of Wakanda. Sir, you have the floor.”

“Thank you, Mr Chairman. It is Wakanda’s opinion that the conditions that once necessitated the Sokovia Accords Act have been significantly altered. Not only has our understanding of powered individuals grown, the limitations of the Sokovia Accords themselves have proven to create more problems than they solve. A new way forward must be forged, one that was not birthed in fear and ignorance. As submitted in our prior application to the Board, Wakanda would like to formally request a vote on the future viability of the Sokovia Accords and the UN Panel overseeing them, with a motion towards dissolving both structures entirely.”

“Distinguished ambassador, the Chair must confirm that Wakanda understands that in order for such a vote to occur, at least seventy five percent of the original signatories must be in agreement?”

“Yes, Mr. Chairman. We are confident we have the numbers.”

“Very well. The Chair recognises Wakanda has requested a vote on the future viability of the Sokovia Accords Act and subsequent political bodies. Distinguished ambassadors, please signal your intentions as to whether or not that vote should be held. Thank you.

“Please let the record show that the request by Wakanda has carried with a majority of over seventy five percent. A vote on the future of the Sokovia Accords Act and subsequent political bodies shall be called within the next twenty days.”

 

 

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

 

 

 

 

“Thank you. Please note I will not be taking questions at this time.”

President Ellis, his face drawn and weary, clears his throat and blinks out at the room of waiting journalists. He looks down at his notes and clears his throat again. The gathered media are respectful and wait in silence for him to begin.

“Yesterday, an appalling assault was made on US citizens, here on US soil. In the very heart of our nation, as our people gathered in peace, that peace was broken in a violent and unacceptable manner. I tell you now that this will not stand. The perpetrators of this act will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law and as the President of the United States, I swear to you justice will be had.

“As terrible as yesterday’s attack was, however, it could have been far worse. Thanks to the efforts of several dedicated heroes, casualties were kept to a minimum. I hereby extend my gratitude to Ms Virginia Potts, for her work in calming those panicked by the events, Mr Martin McNamara, for his quick thinking in apprehending a person of interest in the matter, and Ms Maria Hill, for her assistance providing relevant information regarding said person of interest.

“Additionally, I wish to extend thanks to Tony Stark, Steven Rogers and James Barnes. Despite suffering a most grievous blow, these three men were pivotal in the protection of hundreds of thousands of US civilians. I don’t think I exaggerate when I say it’s possible at least half the connected world has seen images of just how much these men suffered yesterday and yet they were still able to assist in a time of crisis.

“Mr Rogers and Mr Barnes, in gratitude for your continued service to your country during difficult times, I hereby grant my full pardon and reinstate your ranks. Please accept my sincerest condolences for what you have gone through.

“I would like to close this morning by remembering the work of Lily Evergreen. Through her tireless optimism and love for her fellow man, Agent Evergreen showed us we all deserve to belong. Through her compassion, her commitment to the ideals that made this country great, we rediscovered our conscience. And with that in mind, I hereby revoke the United States support of the Sokovia Accords. In our country, we are all equal. We are all brave. And if we work together, we will all be free. ”

The President lifts his head to gaze directly into the cameras. His eyes shine in the lighting.

“You told us to find you, Agent Evergreen, and so we did. Except you found us first. Thank you.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note there may be more spelling/grammatical errors even than usual. Bibbi tried, bless her heart, but I've made alterations since she last edited for me and so I probably made more mistakes. Sorry Bib!


End file.
